


When It Rains, It Pours

by JeanValJean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adulthood AU, Angst, First POV, M/M, Minor Character Death, it's iwaoi isn't that just expected lol, past suicidality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:24:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6433510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanValJean/pseuds/JeanValJean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It always happens when it rains. Your mind seems to become non-existent, watching as the sky opens up and showers the earth with water it had held onto for far too long. We were both like that; rain clouds, in our own way: storing our emotions away until the cloud broke, and suddenly, there was a storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hajime

**Author's Note:**

> So... Haikyuu amirite? I've has this story planned for a while, but I kept reading over the drafts and going 'nah this is shit man,' but I've written and re-written the plot line for each part in this series over and over and I think I'm finally happy with it.  
> ___
> 
> Basically an AU where the volleydudes are grown up, made mistakes in the past, and realised that life isn't all just falling over and getting back up again.

There comes a time in your life where you start to think. It's not the kind of thinking that you do in a classroom or waiting in line for your morning coffee amongst a crowd of exhausted college kids; where you're more thinking about wishing death upon those around you and yourself rather than important things like passing your classes or keeping the line moving.

I didn't think doing those things, because I didn't need to. Like a mindless creature, some things just come naturally, and words leave your lips before your brain has time to process what you're actually saying.

Maybe that's where I made my first mistake.

Anyway, it's the kind of thinking that puts a saltine-like crust around your brain, that sends bouts of numbness through your veins and sets an emptiness in your stomach that hadn't ever found its way in before. It's not the emptiness of not eating for a day; it's the emptiness that is only ever followed or preceded by an emptiness in your heart.

When you're not mindless, acting on impulse, you think about things that had never bothered you. And if they had, weren't big enough problems to worry about. Your thought pattern becomes one of many layers, managing to connect the dots to topics of past conversations that otherwise wouldn't have connected before. Once you begin to think about life, about its quirks and it's gut-wrenching heartaches, you're not on the same plane as everyone else. While they're living their lives not getting caught up by minor possibilities and setbacks, you're too busy caught up inside your own mind to even remember to eat dinner. Everything becomes a question, sparked by the simplest of thoughts, or the most meaningless action.

When I first realised this, I stood at the centre of Aoba Jousai's large gymnasium, holding a certificate rolled up in the palm of my hand. The gym was bursting at the seams with people; parents, friends, extended family. Even people nobody knew. They all surrounded us in the stands, some standing by the door, blinking back tears of pride as their children tried their best to keep their shoulders from shaking. I stopped noticing the people, and the shaking shoulders, and the look of pride in my mom's stern amber eyes. My mind tuned out of the moment, and my watery eyes wandered to the barred windows to catch sight of the overcast sky.

It was then that I realised something; whenever it rains, I have a moment to remember. Why I chose to think about that as I graduated from high school I probably won't ever know, but I can deny the truth about that realisation.

Rain pelted down as we left the gymnasium, washing away the tear stains stuck unceremoniously to our cheeks - it felt wonderful. It was as if the universe was washing away feelings left unsaid, or feelings spoken far too often. Everything we third years had ever done, said, felt, eaten; none of it mattered anymore. Rain washed our slates clean, opening up a barrage of new possibilities for our futures.

That thought both pained and encouraged me. As did the golden-brown eyes that glanced at me quickly, something hidden within them that was yet to be shown to the world. They'd sent sparks through some part of me not even I had dared to reach, but I'd never made that known. I wasn't - I'm not - an open person. Definitely not like he was.

Oikawa Tooru had thrown me a wave and jogged towards the train station two blocks away, quick to avert his gaze from mine, rain soaking thorough his windbreaker jacket; my family was there to pick me up at the front gate, my mother holding her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. I said nothing, turning on my heel to walk towards the gate with little more than a stinging pain in my gut.

But it had always been like that.

Oikawa always had some place to be, some person to meet, and I always had a parent or guardian waiting to take me home, and no voice to speak of. God knows why, because I never used their designated study sessions for studying, and I'm sure I'd failed some aspect of being a model child.

Maybe that's why I never got the chance to say goodbye to Oikawa; to maybe apologise for something, to tie up any loose ends, or to tell him that if anyone really appreciated him and everything he did, it was me. Maybe I should have been there for him more than I was. Maybe I should have spoken up, putting aside any guilt I felt towards myself to help someone else.

Maybe that's why I stayed in Miyagi to attend university, and Oikawa made it all the way to Tokyo, with only a brief exchange shared between us: ' _I'll see you later, Iwa!'_

I don't know how long ' _later_ ' was supposed to be, but I feel like five years is pushing it.

I sigh, leaning over the balcony of my apartment, watching as the sun sets behind rows and rows of tall buildings. Windows reflect the suns light across the city, shining almost painfully in they direction of my eyes. I gaze downwards; something that's become a habit, as of late.

Why do I always end up thinking about this shit? It's all so unimportant. We haven't seen each other for years. Not an email, not a phone call, not a coffee. Why does every thought I have lead back to _him_?

Trees have sprung up over the small sections of the city, but most are overshadowed by corporate design. Matsukawa pushes open the balcony door, making a show of stretching his arms high above his head, the joints between his shoulders popping obnoxiously. He always does that when I'm thinking, just to distract me.

It gets annoying.

"What do you want?" I ask, keeping my eyes towards the view ahead of me. Eyes forward, never back. That's how you succeed, Hajime. "You know I'm not going drinking with you, if I hadn't made that perfectly clear already."

Matsukawa chuckles. "Yeah, yeah. Buzzkill. I am going to invite you out with me and Takahiro though. We're going for sushi... It would be better than the take-out crap you order all the time, and better for you too."

Rolling my eyes, I turn around to face him, blinking away the glare of the sunlight reflecting off of the creamy walls. "It's not crap. It's cheap and it tastes good."

"Right, cheap. Like you need to worry about cost, Iwaizumi. And you didn't answer the question."

"That wasn't answer enough? My mind won't ever change, Matsukawa. I'm not going."

Matsukawa sighs, crossing his arms. "You haven't been out of this place since we left college. That was almost a year ago! Aren't you going to get a job or find a girlfriend or travel or something? Maybe stop moping around all the time?"

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Why is the world full of pointless maybe's? I click my jaw, moving to push past him and occupy myself in the kitchen. "I don't need any of that. And you know what would happen if I got a job or a girlfriend and mom didn't know about it the very second that it happened."

"Yeah, I have to sit through and explain your play-by-play of every event until she's satisfied you weren't pulling her leg. From bread to breadcrumb - I get it." Matsukawa grabs his jacket from the hanger by the front door, and messes his hair in the hanging mirror in the living space. "But seriously, you're twenty two years old! You don't drink, you don't go out, you don't have any hobbies. You're less enthused about daily life than I was back in high school, and that's saying something. God, I haven't seen you this depressed since-"

"Okay!" I shout, slamming a large carving knife down onto the bench top, causing him to jump. When had I grabbed a knife? I grit my teeth, allowing my chest to rise and fall slowly. "Okay. I get it. Can you let it go? I'm sure Hanamaki's waiting for you."

Matsukawa's gaze falters, and he sighs, picking up his wallet and phone. "You need to sort yourself out, Hajime. The more you act like this the more inclined I am to not move in with Takahiro. And you know I'd give anything to ditch your crusty ass." He leaves without another word, closing the door harshly behind him.

As a cool breeze makes its way across to me, the apartment suddenly feels emptier than before. Or perhaps I just feel empty.

I wish he would just leave. I don't need a babysitter. I had one all my life, and now that I'm finally free, I thought I'd be able to live my life to the greatest lengths. But I still haven't escaped the possessive clutches of someone who thinks they know what's best for me. Have I even progressed at all?

Have all of my fears, my anxieties, become such a prominent part of my life that I've forged a self-reclusive routine and never broken free of it?

I throw the knife back into the drawer, just as a loud grumble from the heavens becomes the opening act to a downpour of summer rain. It's sudden; just as sudden as how I have my phone open to my contact list in an instant, staring at a single name with a single stupid emoji beside it, as I slump down in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I should call. But what good would that do? It's probably not even the same number anymore... But it could be. But there's no way that it is.

When did I become the one pining after a lost cause? When did I become the dependant one? I've never been dependent, no matter how many times dependence was forced upon me. I've always been a pillar of strength for not only those around me, but for myself. But lately... It's like we're all leaning on each other for support. No one pillar is stronger than the others.

I hate it. I don't hate myself; I've contributed to the loss of my pillar strength greatly, but I couldn't ever bring myself to hate my own actions. I did what I had to do, what I thought was right at the time. It's just human nature.

But when did I let myself get like this? Why do I have to keep myself up at night in hopes that one day I will just magically become that pillar, like life since high school has all just been some crazy, confronting dream? I find myself wishing that someday I will find someone that I am stronger than. But that just sounds like a childish dream now.

Why does life have to be so difficult?

I sigh, hands falling down my face to try and bring myself back to reality. Here, now. I do this every time I'm alone. What makes today any different? It's either maybe this or maybe that, and then I waste an entire day staring out at a skyline that hasn't changed at all in five years.

How much can change in five years? Everyone's progressed, and I'm stuck in some rut I can't seem to get out of. How did I even get to this point? I don't remember feeling this bad since... Shaking the thought from my mind, I bite my lip and rush to grab my own coat from the hanger. It's a decision I will make and stick to, I tell myself; go outside, grab some dinner, come home. I can do that much, at least. If not for my sake, for Matsukawa.

I can show him that I'm capable of living as a functional human being. I can do this to forget the past and move forward with the flow of society, then maybe he'll leave. Maybe then I can live my life on my own terms, just as I always said I would.

But it's hard to convince yourself of something you know isn't true. That's like trying to tell a tiger it has spots instead of stripes; it's futile, really. Just a waste of time.

I stop thinking.

It takes under ten minutes to walk to the Bar and Grill down the street, just before the city centre, even having to brace the cold of winter. It's a Western-style place, one of my favourites, and there's always a booth in the back corner free. It's usually covered in cobwebs or a variety of bodily fluids, but the food makes up for it. I can't complain.

I can't complain about much, really, even though I want to. I attended and passed University, live in an apartment of my very own with Matsukawa, and spend most of my daylight hours watching TV or sleeping in. Who wouldn't want that?

I've got my life sorted out, you know? I don't have a job, but I get enough support from my parents to stay financially stable for the foreseeable future. I don't have a girlfriend, but it's not like I need a significant other to help me pull myself together. More together, I mean. And no, I haven't spoken to him in four years, but it's not like that matters or anything. That was high school - this is Real Life.

I enter the establishment and take a seat in the same smelly booth I inhabited when I used to go out. It brings back memories, but I repress them, instead ordering an old favourite of mine from a perky waitress and slumping down into my seat.

It's fairly empty tonight. Or is it usually like this? I was too preoccupied to notice last time I was here, too wrapped up in the conversations of never's and maybe's that wouldn't ever extend beyond what they were: pointless, meaningless. Conversational topics with no real use other than to pass the time.

Those conversations were all so pointless. Didn't we ever stop to think? Would things have been different if we'd known just what we were getting into before it happened? I can't help but throw my head into my hands, groaning at the way the forefront of my mind wracks with agony. Now every breath taken feels like a mistake.

But it didn't always.

Not whilst we had volleyball, anyway. Not when it was he and I, no doubt two very different peas in the same worn, sun-dried pod. Neither of us knew that at the time, I guess.

Maybe that was for the best.

A waitress comes over with my order, smiling at me cheerfully. Her eyes don't smile; she doesn't want to be here. I understand the feeling, but probably not in the way that she does.

"Did you order anything else?" She asks, setting down my tray of food in front of me. I shake my head, but catch sight of the time on her wrist watch, a small date flashing before my eyes like a ghost. I feel sick.

I grab her apron, surprising her, and she turns to face me, scared. "S-Sorry, um." My voice is hoarse, weak. I read it wrong, my eyes are playing tricks on me. My throat starts to close over, dry. It's a mistake, an honest mistake. "Sorry, could you tell me the date today?"

Her features relax, and her practiced smile returns. I can barely make out the words she speaks to me, as if someone turned the volume up on a shitty static-radio station. I can barely read her lips, as if my eyes refuse to even watch her mouth the date let alone hear them at such a close proximity.

July 20th.

- **x** -

" _Iwa! Come here, quick! I think I've found Venus!"_

_Crickets sung around us, their chirped symphony halting as our footsteps drew nearer. Beneath the light of the full moon, there wasn't a single star brighter than the one stood a few meters away from me._

_"That's just the moon, you dummy."_

_Oikawa scoffed, running to drag me by the arm back to the telescope we'd mounted on the grassy hill beside my house. "Look and see! It's Venus, I know it." We were encased in darkness, safe for the moon, the gaslight I'd brought along with us, and the dim glow of the front porch light from my house._

_I was sceptical, crossing my arms as Oikawa let go of me, but looked through the telescope nonetheless. And sure enough... "It's the moon, dumbass. Look, you can see it without the telescope, craters and all."_

_We both looked up. I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "So mean..." Oikawa sighed, rolling his eyes, before he went straight back to staring up at the sky through the lens with a new determination. Eventually, after a few minutes of searching the sky, he gave in, huffing in frustration. "Fine, it's the moon. But one day, I will find Venus, and you'll see it looks exactly like that moon of yours. That's the only reason I got it mixed up; because they look the same you know. And it was raining just before, and it's starting to rain again. That's why I got confused too. Yeah."_

_I raised an eyebrow. "Why're you so weird?"_

_He frowned. "I'm not weird."_

_"Yeah, you are. You do that weird thing with your tongue in every photo we take, and you're always winking and laughing and stuff. Nothing's that funny you know." Oikawa simply shrugged, beginning to pack away the telescope as I gathered my jar of dirt, which I was sure had some kind of bug in there. I just hadn't shaken it enough yet._

_We walked back back to my front door, where sure enough, Oikawa's mother was waiting for him. She waved at us both, grimacing slightly at the state of our clothing. I couldn't miss that motherly disapproval for anything; my mom did the same thing._

_"Hajime! Look at you! Get those dirty clothes off now, you're not going in the house like that," She scolded, crossing her arms and staring me down. I didn't dare argue. "And don't bring that bug inside young man, leave it out here on the porch."_

_"But mom-"_

_"Hajime, it's filthy. We can clean it up tomorrow."_

_"Oh Tooru, look at your own mess," His mother sighed. Oikawa smiled, telling her it was 'okay,' and that 'Iwa is just as dirty so no one can be blamed.' His mother laughed, but before an extra conversation could start, she told us to say our goodbyes before they headed home._

_Oikawa sighed dramatically, clinging onto his mothers dress and waving at me as they tottered off down the pebble driveway. "Bye, Iwa! See you at school!"_

_I smiled. "Bye, Oikawa... Happy Birthday."_

- **x** -

For all the times I'd wound up in bed with a fever, and for all the times I'd wished death to relieve me of my inability to breathe, this is the worst I have felt in a long, long time.

"I can't believe you did that." Matsukawa keeps his distance, even as he replaces the cold towel on my forehead. "Who decides that getting hammered at 11pm is a good idea, and then decides to take an ice bath with literal ice?"

I wheeze, "Me, apparently," before coughing up a lung. It was better than reaching for my phone. It was better than looking up bus routes. It was better than remembering I hadn't moved on at all.

"Tch. We could have used that for a party or something," Matsukawa complains, rolling his eyes at my feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "You really are hopeless, you know that, right?"

I sigh. "You've told me enough. If I didn't know I'd be crazy."

"You are crazy." Matsukawa hums, glaring at me from the end of my bed, his phone illuminating his face as he texts hurriedly. "I'm going out with Takahiro in a few minutes... We're looking for an apartment."

My lung catches in my throat. "Really? You are?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't act like the heavens are opening up. I might rethink moving in anytime soon. I don't think I can move out with a peaceful mind knowing you're going to develop a drinking problem and try to drown yourself."

"I didn't try to-"

"I pulled you from beneath the water, Hajime. Don't tell me what you were or weren't trying to do." Matsukawa picks up his shopping bag of luxuries and heads towards the door, casting a pitiful glance over at me lying on my death bed. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. And no more ice bath challenge attempts - God knows we don't need another one of those put towards Aoba Jousai's graduate heritage."

Aoba Jousai... Just hearing the name makes the tips of my fingers numb, my palms itching for the sensation of spiking a ball past a sea of hands looming over me. I snort, though nasally and harsh, temporarily erasing the memory. "Kunimi didn't even know he was doing the ice bath challenge, not until Kindaichi had him half naked in the bathroom."

"That's true... Anyway, rest up. I'll be back later, but I'm staying over with Takahiro again, so make good choices please."

"... You've matured a lot, Issei."

"Huh?"

I attempt to sit up, ignoring the pain and my chest and the reluctance in my stiff and aching muscles. "You used to be so... I don't know. Stupid, I guess. Annoying. Especially when you were around Hanamaki. You two would always goof off like idiots. But now..."

Matsukawa smirks. "We're still stupid, Hajime. We're just stupid in a way that's adult and slightly more acceptable. Some people even find it endearing. Now lie back down before you break something."

I roll my eyes, grateful to crawl back beneath the covers and submit myself to whatever sickness I'd contracted. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, mom."

' _Iwa-chan, are you my mom?'_

My blood runs cold and a dreadful realisation hits me hard. I lost control simply because of the date, and now I'm practically quoting that asshole. What's wrong with me? Why can't I move on? I've got over so many sports injuries, so many family deaths, so many personal traumas. _Why the hell cant I get over Oikawa Tooru?_

Matsukawa leaves me to my own devices, and as soon as I hear the front door click shut, I leave my bed and make my way to the kitchen. Sick people don't wait on themselves, he'd said, but I beg to differ. If I have even an ounce of strength I'll use it to the best of my ability.

I'm not going to sit back and do nothing until the fever breaks. Sick or not, I'm hungry, and I know there's always leftover something in the fridge after- ... I'd eaten out last night. "God..." I sigh, running my fingers through my damp hair. I'd been sweating; maybe I'd sweated out the fever already. "I'm so _stupid_."

Here I am calling Matsukawa stupid, and yet, I'm the one who decided getting drunk and freezing my ass off was the best way to deal with my self-destructing thought processes. I'm the one who still quotes the voice of my seventeen year old best friend. I'm the one who's pining after someone I haven't seen or even heard from in five years.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki stayed in contact, even though Matsukawa went to university and Hanamaki immediately launched himself into the adult world. Now they're even thinking about moving in together they're so freaking in love. I couldn't even work up the courage to say goodbye, couldn't even work up the courage to say sorry, to say something.

What's wrong with me? Why does everything suddenly seem so hard? It's never been hard. Life has always been... Easy. I've always had someone there to pick up whatever it is I'd dropped, whether intentionally or because I couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't my responsibility to sell the piano after I gave up lessons; mom sold it for me. I never had to clean my room or wash the dishes, because we had a house cleaner. I didn't even have to go to a mainstream school if I didn't feel like going, because we could have had the tutor called up and teaching me within half an hour.

I've never had to do much of anything, really, no matter how many times I wanted to. Does that make me a poor excuse for a human being? No, of course it doesn't. It just makes me a poor excuse of a twenty two year old who owns his own flat but doesn't have a job because his parents told him he doesn't need one as long as he stays in contact with them.

_'Call me every second month, Hajime. I'll make sure you see you way to a bright future!'_

_'Don't go stuffing around, got it, boy? Our hard earned money is going to help seal your future. You'd better respect it.'_

_Future_... They always spoke about my future so highly, as if with their support I would somehow be better off than I would be going out and finding my way on my own. Maybe that's why I'm so incapable of functioning like Matsukawa and Hanamaki. They've always done things their way, adding a little colour here and there when it wasn't necessarily needed. I always coloured within the lines.

My bones feel like they're going to break, ankles barely able to support my weight, even as I lean against the kitchen breath. My lungs feel like they're going to collapse. Reluctantly, I make my way back to bed, only grabbing an apple on the way back. I manage to eat half of it before breathing through my mouth becomes too much of a task and I can't seem to blow my nose enough to get it all out.

So I give in. I give in to my mutinous immune system and find my eyelids closing, heavy with exhaustion.

I find that, as sleep comes, I don't necessarily mind giving in. It's a lot easier than fighting, I guess. There's a lot less effort in simply letting things take ahold of you rather than fighting your own battles and conquering problems on your own.

But then I realise that that's all I've ever done, all I've ever known. That's why I'm not progressing. That's why I'm stuck in this mid-life crisis before I've even reached mid-life.

I guess some things don't ever get done unless you do them yourself.

 

* * *

 

God knows what possessed me to spend my first illness-free day with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but I did it anyway. Maybe it's because they insisted; it would be a free meal, after all. Maybe it's because they needed affirmation I'd be okay on my own. Maybe it's because the crippling loneliness I'd attempted to come to terms with was a little worse than I anticipated.

It won't matter though. I'll get by. I always do.

"Iwaizumi?"

I blink back into reality, wiping off a trail of drool that had slid it's way down my hand where my chin rested. "Sorry. Uh, Hanamaki, you were saying?"

Hanamaki raises an eyebrow, chewing loudly on a chewy piece of chicken. "Issei goes to the bathroom for two minutes and you're already spacing out. Don't tell me you've taken a leaf out of the ex-captain of Nekoma's book-"

"No, I haven't. I wouldn't do that."

"Sure. Maybe it's Fukurodani's then."

I roll my eyes. "Seriously? I'm not that bad. And besides, those guys probably have their lives turned around by now, so it doesn't count... You shouldn't talk about them like that anyway."

He grins, slyly. "You're one to talk, Iwaizumi."

Matsukawa comes back to our table in the food court, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. He sits down with a huff, stealing a vegetable from Hanamaki's tray and popping it into his mouth unceremoniously.

"Hope you washed your hands," Hanamaki chides.

Matsukawa rolls his eyes, tongue sticking out playfully. I think I'm about to be sick. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what'd I miss? I can practically wrap the tension around me like a blanket to keep warm."

Collectively, we roll our eyes. Hanamaki speaks first, and I look away. "I was talking about needing help to paint the apartment next weekend, and then I realised Iwaizumi wasn't listening. I asked him, and he got all snarky."

"Oh, bullshit. He started comparing me to Nekoma and Fukurodani's captains from high school-"

"I was just making sure he wasn't trying to do anything stupid-"

"He was implying that I'm some suicidal-"

"Enough!" Matsukawa shouts, slamming his hands down onto the table. "For gods sake, you two are a fucking handful." He stands abruptly, causing his chair to slide back on the floor and ring out through the food court. If people weren't staring already, they certainly are now. "You both need to grow up. What happened to you guys? Takahiro, you know better. And Iwaizumi? You need to get your shit together, because no one wants to hang around with someone who can't even stand themselves."

"Matsu-"

"Save it. I'll be getting the rest of my boxes later tonight. C'mon, Takahiro."

Matsukawa starts to walk away, and it takes a few moments for Hanamaki to realise what's just happened. He glances at me, his expressing remorseful. "I'm... Sorry. I took it too far. I, uh, I'll call you later or something."

"Yeah, whatever," I say, sighing. "Just go."

As I'm left alone at the table for four, I realise just how symbolic it is. Stupid, I know. But it's the truth. I'm left alone because I drive people away.

I didn't always, I know that much. I can barely remember my days of reasoning and strength, but I know I had them. I know I was the person everybody came to when they needed assistance. God knows how many times I had to stay behind after volleyball practice to help Kindaichi with whatever he felt he needed to improve on. And however many times I chose to stay behind and make sure Oikawa didn't overwork himself.

Look where that got me: sitting in a public food core with more eyes on me than a bikini model, fighting with the parts of me every day that are both righteous and self-loathing, wishing that time had just waited for me to catch up with it.

Where did I go wrong?

- **x** -

" _Quick, Iwaizumi! Run!"_

_Oikawa was laughing his head off as I slipping in the mud, making my clothes even more wet that they were. We hadn't expected a downpour when we decided to walk to the train station. I certainly didn't think Oikawa would keep walking to the train station, but he did. By default, so did I._

_You know, to keep him out of trouble or whatever._

_"Shut up, Shittykawa. Now we're both going to get sick," I groaned, ringing out my school shirt as best I could without taking it off. "I hate being wet in clothes."_

_Oikawa bit his lip. "One, you need to wash your mouth out with soap now, or else I'll tell your mom and she'll get angry at you and give me cookies for being honest. Two, you look like a wet cat. Like, one that fell in the bathtub or something."_

_I raised an eyebrow and he started to laugh, grabbing onto my shoulder to keep himself from doubling over. "Well, one, you're ridiculous. And two, if you tell my mom I swore I'll tell you mom you hurt your knee again and didn't tell her."_

_"No! You can't!"_

_"But I can. And I will."_

_Oikawa sighed, defeated, and put his hand on my shoulder to turn me around as my train approached the station. We lived in different directions. "Fine. I won't say anything, as long as you don't. If mom finds out she'll yell and I won't be able to play."_

_I shook my head, stepping up to the platform. "If you hurt yourself anymore I have to say something, otherwise you won't play ever again, Oikawa."_

_His mind reeled, I could see it. He changed the subject. "See you tomorrow, Iwa!"_

_Oikawa's smile was so large, but so fake. I didn't know how other people couldn't see it. Even in sixth grade, I could that his smile was just as perfected as the ones they put on the cover of magazines. I couldn't help but wonder if he spent more time practising his smile or more time practising volleyball._

_"See you."_

He watched as my train left the station, and unbeknownst to him, I watched as he began to leave it himself. He wasn't catching the train.

_Where was he going?_

- **x** -

I swallow, dabbing at the sweat on my forehead with my discarded t-shirt. "P-Please... Can you just call me back? It's really important that I- that we, um."

I hang up. I let out a sob. I shake my head and think: _what kind of poor excuse for a human being am I?_


	2. Tooru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We both made promises we didn't keep. Why have I always just assumed I was the only one not keeping their side of the deal?

I stood in the centre of the city, staring wide-eyed at the tall towers looming above me. Suitcase in hand, and determination in my heart, I cleared my throat and kept moving. No matter how many roadblocks were in my path, I always kept moving. Hell, I'd walk on broken glass barefooted so long as I could keep moving.

One foot in front of the other one. That's all I had to remember. Moving to Tokyo took more wind out of me than it allowed into my lungs, but I took that as a chance to move forward, to move on.

I didn't. I couldn't.

I _can't_.

 

* * *

 

I've always narrated the pinnacle moments of my life in past tense. It's a habit, I suppose, thinking about everything that used to be, rather than what is and what may or may not be. But that doesn't matter. The past is the past, and no matter how many times you try relive it, it won't ever be the same.

But no matter how many times I tell myself that, I just can't believe it. And that's what makes it all the more harder to understand. How can you possibly live your life according to the beliefs of other people when you don't even believe them yourself?

You can't. And as it turns out, the life I've been living hasn't even been my own. It's been university this, work that; family gathering here, social function there; nights full of hope and ambition - and then nights where I'd much rather sit up on the roof of this stupid apartment building until my body is about as numb as my mind.

I can't keep my head clear long enough to drown out the sounds of the clock ticking loudly on the wall, almost louder than the screaming in my mind telling me to just stop breathing already.

He never used to be like this, they'd said. But the truth is: I've always been like this.

It's far easier pretending to be happy than actually being happy. Maybe that's where the acting course came from in the first place. I'd held myself together for all these years, nobody has ever questioned me, even when I've been falling apart.

Nobody in a long time, any way.

I suck in a breath I wasn't aware I was holding, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the lamp beside my head. When had I closed my eyes? My roommate stirs, his eyes almost glowing against the dim light as he raises an eyebrow at me. Even lying on his side in the dark, most of his features hidden my his unruly hair, I can see his quizzical expression.

"Finally ready to go to sleep? Unlike you, you freeloader," He groans, "I've got work in four hours."

I chuckle shakily, removing my glasses to rub at my tired, heavy eyes. "Y-yeah, sorry Kuroo. I guess I got distracted."

"You guess?" Kuroo hums, before yawning loudly and drowning out the way my breath comes out unsteadily. "Oikawa, this is like, the fifth night in a row. You need to stop working so hard or you're gonna get sick... and I am not taking care of you again. I don't think my bank account can afford it."

My body aches - I laugh it off. We joke about it, throwing a few backhanded comments at one another as I trudge down the hall to change into my pyjamas.

I laugh it off. I always laugh it off.

It's easy, bearable.

Some days are easier than others. You go to class or work, you go back home; eat dinner, do your homework, shower, go to bed. It's standard. Routine, even. Nobody questions the way you do things because that's the way everybody else does it. There's no need to have a special way of doing things in life, because chances are, you're gonna do things the way everybody else does, because it works. If it didn't work, nobody would do it. There's no need for reasoning, because nobody questions it.

I hate that, knowing all the hard work I'd put in for something for all of those years wasn't anything anybody else hadn't tried before. And many of those people had failed, too.

I just accept it. I accept, and try to move on, try not to dwell on it.

If you have a routine to follow, and if you do just as everyone else does, the rest of it falls into place eventually. Maybe not what I want to fall into place, but the other things that everyone else does. That's what I try to believe, nowadays.

I didn't used to. I always walked to the beat of my own drum, doing most things for and by myself. I wasn't afraid to ask for help, but I always tried to do things on my own first. I believed I could do it, too. But I guess believing wasn't enough.

Either way, I do as everyone else does now. There aren't too many people who don't believe in the unspoken rule of 'following the crowd.' In a world where things go to shit faster than the time it takes to get a volleyball served into the back of your head, you have to try and believe in something.

Maybe that's why I stopped believing in my own stupid dreams and chose to follow the dreams of other people. Namely my parents. Mostly my older brother. Sometimes just the people around me who seem to have their lives sorted out, who are already making plans to make their dreams a reality.

"Your mom called while you were out."

"... what?"

Kuroo rubs tiredly at his eyes as I walk back into the living room, rolling over onto his back and stretching his arms into the air. "It was like twelve, and I told her you were asleep. She'll probably call again later-"

I bite my lip. "What did she want? What was she saying?"

"She sounded drunk to be honest, but I think we were both too tired to speak coherently. I think she's just lonely - we talked for like, forty-five minutes, about reality TV and her favourite mochachino going out of stock."

"You spoke with my mom for forty-five minutes - _the mom who hasn't phoned me in over six months_ \- and didn't wake me up."

Silence falls deadly between us, and I quickly distract myself by clearing up the desk in the living room. Move, move, move. Occupy yourself. Keep your hands busy, your mind absent. Don't think, don't speak. Just move, find a distraction.

"Have you considered cutting your hair yet? Kenma told me some places won't hire you if your hair is too long. Maybe that's why you can't get a job."

Just move, find a distraction.

I roll my eyes. "Learn that from experience did he? And no, I haven't. With my good looks, I'll be hired by the first place I walk into." Kuroo scoffs. "And if that cafe of yours finds out you're sleeping on the couch of a guy who only rents his flat, you'll be fired. Better be careful who you torment, Kuroo, wouldn't want word getting out that you're practically homeless now, would we?"

Kuroo doesn't retaliate, even though he knows I wouldn't do anything like that. He's been too good to me for me to go and ruin his life, just for the sake of a little self-satisfaction. Well, he used to be good to me. It's wouldn't have hurt his ego too much to wake me up and let me speak to my own mother for crying out loud.

We say our goodnights, playful torments pushed aside for the evening, and I switch off the desk lamp. As I walk down the hall to my bedroom, I try desperately not to let my sniffles out before I'm locked safely behind the door. He doesn't make me cry. I wouldn't ever give Kuroo the satisfaction of making me vulnerable like that.

It's the truth behind what he says that makes me cry. It's the fact that, no matter how many times I tell myself not to worry about it, he's always right. From the time we shared a dorm all throughout college, to the time he turned up on my doorstep a year later drenched in sweat and covered in blood neither of us were sure belonged to him, he's always known exactly what's going on.

I can't say 'I'm fine' when I'm really not, because he knows when I'm lying. I can't tell him I don't like him living with me when he pisses me off, because he knows I'm lying.

I can't tell I'm 100% okay with where I am in life, because he knows I'm lying.

And I hate that. I hate not being able to lie, because lying is all I've ever done. It's the only thing that's kept me going, kept me believing in something, even if what I was believing in wasn't true.

I sob into my sleeve, leaning against the door. I'm not quick enough to quiet myself, not quick enough to stop the flow of tears, before Kuroo knocks on my door and asks if he can come in.

"N-no, I'm fine. Just. Bad hay fever," I choke, wiping away my tears with the sleeve of my pyjama shirt and pressing my back firmly against the door. I hate it when this happens. I wish that for once, I could be the one comforting him again. Then I could go back to pretending, to lying.

Kuroo's voice is mumbled, tired from sleep, but I know the expression he's wearing, and I know the tone of voice he's using. "Oikawa, open the door. You're not fine, I could hear you sobbing all the way down the hallway."

"Kuroo, I'm fine, I-"

He pushes open the door with a strength I've only ever seen in one other person, and as he wraps his arms around me, for the first time in a little while, I find myself not wishing I was being held by someone else. I hadn't felt like that for a few months now.

I haven't thought about him for months now.

"There's kind of an unspoken rule about living with one another that says 'I'm here for you and you should trust me enough to talk to me if you trust me enough to not stab you in your sleep.'" Kuroo easily rests his chin on my head, and if I weren't already accustomed to his random bouts of affection, I might have pulled away. "So, are you gonna tell me what's up?"

I shake my head, but don't pull out of his grip, even as we slide to the floor and I'm sat in his lap like a child. I feel like a child. "It's n-nothing. I'm just... exhausted, you know? Just tired. Everything, it's just... _hard_. It's just hard." He always manages to get me to speak. I hate that. Kuroo wipes a tear from my chin, slowly rocking us back and forth. I feel ridiculous. "It's hard looking for a job, and it's hard having to take care of myself, and it's hard having to train when you're never going to amount to anything because _you're such a fucking-_ "

"Shh." Kuroo pets my hair as my wailing drowns out any other sound in the apartment. I feel pathetic, useless, crying into the arms of a guy who can barely keep himself going let alone someone else. "You're not a fucking anything, okay? You've amounted to things already - there's plenty more you can achieve. You've got a shit-load of years ahead of you to prove that little demon in your head that you're worth more than what you think. Everything will be okay."

How can he say that? How can he possibly believe that those meaningless words will convince me to stop hating myself, to somehow suddenly be a new person? If you don't believe what you say, don't preach it. He doesn't have the right to say those things to me - where he's concerned, they mean nothing. He knows that just as well as I do.

"I'm s-sorry Kuroo... I shouldn't- shouldn't be doing this to you before you have to go to work," I say, breathlessly, desperately clinging to his bare chest. He's always so warm.

"Don't be sorry. This stuff happens. If we could predict when we were going to break down then life would be far easier than it is... hell, if it was, we'd all have our lives together, living in some mansion by the sea or something."

I swallow. "How is Bokuto? I haven't heard about him in a while now. I thought he might've... you know."

Kuroo shakes his head, his slight smile faltering only a little. "He's okay. Not better, but better than he was that's for sure. But don't change the subject. We're here for you right now. Not him, not me, not anyone else; just you."

"But it's always about me-"

"No, it isn't." We sit up slightly, adjusting our positions until we're at eye level with each other. "You think it's always about you, because that's all you've even been told, Tooru. Ask anyone."

I scoff, sitting up and pulling away from Kuroo. "' _Ask anyone?_ ' _Please_ , Tetsurou, you've seen the way they look at me. It's like I'm... like I'm _nothing_ anymore. Why did I ever think that I stood a chance out here? I'm not some high school prodigy anymore. I'm just a sorry excuse for an adult, living on the back-burners of the world hoping that someday, _somehow_ , I'll be able to wake up and feel like the day is worth living again, and you know that! Don't keep telling me that everything will be okay, and that I'll amount to something, when you don't even believe that about yourself! You're about as sorry and fucked as I am, so you have no right to-"

 _Fuck_.

Kuroo's eyes have lost their... something. Suddenly, he's blank, like the canvases he so used to enjoy bringing to life.

And it's my fault. But when is it never not my fault these days?

I don't have time to even mutter a worthless apology before Kuroo speaks again, this time his voice distant and low. "We all had stupid dreams as kids. We all thought we'd grow up to be astronauts, or pilots, or professional volleyball players. But we're not. But just because dreaming as a child is expected, doesn't mean that dreaming as an adult is any less acceptable." Kuroo stands now, pushing me off of his lap. I'm still in a heap on the floor when he continues. "I don't care if it's all for nothing. Dreaming is the only thing that's keeping me going. I suggest you don't knock it before you've tried it."

I roll my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest and folding my arms over them, leaning back against the door. I want to yell and scream and get angry, but my voice only comes out weak. "What's the point of dreaming if it's not going to get you anywhere? It only wastes time, only makes this life that much worse to live when your dreams don't work out and you realise you've wasted so many moments hoping instead of doing."

Kuroo swallows. I realise my mistake just as he opens his mouth to speak, voice lowered to a husky whisper. "I didn't realise you were so focused on what's left of your future, Oikawa. I won't question your progression anymore." I move away from the door just in time for it not to graze my body as he leaves, slamming it shut behind him.

 _Shit_...

I sob into the crook of my arm, my words broken and tearful. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

- **x** -

" _Iwaizumi, are you going to join the volleyball team?"_

_Iwaizumi was focused, almost too focused, on making sure he picked the right leaves off of the bush in his backyard to feed to his beetles. There were three of them, and he loved them greatly. 'Only the best food for my babies', he'd once said._

_He found this embarrassing. Even still to this day, I find it endearing, loveable. It's not too often you find someone who loves something unconditionally, warts and all. Even if that thing is a collection of deformed stag beetles._

_He shrugged. "Don't know. Why?"_

_Focused. Of course he knew. I pursed my lips, scuffing my shoes in the dirt. "I'm going to join. Kitagawa Daiichi has a good team, and my brother was on it when he went there... I think it might make him proud. He made my parents proud, at least."_

_Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at me, walking over with a collection of leaves as I kept my hand over the jar to keep the beetles inside. He handled it from there, somehow able to talk and attend to his strange hobby at the same time. "I think it's stupid to do something for someone else like that. Join if you want to, not because it'll make your folks happy or whatever."_

_How strange. "...will you join with me? I don't want to do it alone," I laughed, fiddling with my dirt-covered fingers. "It wouldn't be fun if I didn't have a friend with me."_

_Iwaizumi shrugged, wiping droplets of rain from the leaves before plucking them carefully from the bush. "Yeah, okay. I have to ask my mom first though."_

_I made him ask immediately- she said yes. We went back to playing in his backyard until dusk, and by then the fireflies were out and our parents were rounding us both up, desperate to get us inside before our tiny minds even thought about capturing those poor bugs._

_But I wasn't focused on that. Having the reassurance that Iwaizumi would be there with me as I pursued something I'd only ever dreamt about lifted my spirits, stole away dread pooling at the bottom of my stomach when my mother called out to me from Iwaizumi's front porch._

That was the moment that started the rest our lives as people who were different; closer, yet so, so far apart.

- **x** -

I didn't even realise it back then, that it would matter so much to me in the future, but volleyball connected us. It didn't - _it doesn't_ \- matter though. It's different now. I don't play like I, _we_ , used to.

I live with Kuroo Tetsurou (although I don't remember that ever being part of the deal when moving to Tokyo), I'm looking for work, and I'm just managing to rent this little apartment two stops away from Shinjuku station. Isn't that enough? Can't that just be enough?

"Dude. Twenty minutes, yeah? It's been like a lifetime. I think I've gone grey."

We laugh it off. We always laugh it off.

Neither of us have laughed much this morning, but it's as though last night never even happened. Maybe we should address it. No, we need to address it. But we won't. We never do. For our mental states, it's probably for the best. But for _us_ , it's a mistake we never learn from.

I roll my eyes, attempts to ignore Kuroo pacing up and down the hallway and whispering stupid things through the bathroom door for naught. "Yeah, yeah. A few more minutes, okay? Perfection can't perfect itself you know."

Kuroo groans, loud and dramatic, before banging his head against the bathroom door. "You're a bastard, you know that? Unlike you, some people need to get to work, Shittykawa." I drop my comb. Kuroo sniffs dramatically. "Did you just _fart_ -"

"What did you just call me?"

A pause. Kuroo swallows. My stomach bubbles acid up into my throat - my chest starts to hurt, stomach starts to ache. Muscles contract painfully against bone as my legs threaten to collapse. I clear my throat. "What did you just call me, Kuroo."

Why did I ask again? I heard it the first time. I know what he said. Why deal a heavier blow? Is this some shitty retaliation from last night? Has he stooped this low just to get a hit in, for his own sense of satisfaction? Something like regret resonates beneath the doorframe as Kuroo clears his throat, nervously. "... Shittykawa."

"You bastard!" I shout, shoving open the bathroom door and simultaneously hitting Kuroo in the face with it. "Last night not enough for you, was it!?"

This isn't how we should handle it. But it's how we're going to.

"Oh, fuck off, I did nothing but support you last night! You were the one saying stupid shit about me just so you don't have to face the facts about your own fucked-up past!" Kuroo hisses, shoving me back against the wall. "First your bring up Bo, and then you go on about how dreaming is wasting your life? That's all that's got me through and you know that! You're just trying to justify your own incompetence by telling me that I've wasted my life!"

"Well you have! You could have been a fucking incredible player, Kuroo, but you decided that wasn't for you. You wasted your life _dreaming_ about a future you could have made for yourself rather than actually _going out and making it_. And it was all for what? Drugs? A quick fix? _STD's_? You wasted your opportunity!"

"Don't you fucking dare bring that shit into this, asshole. You're not mad because I wasted my opportunity, you're mad because I wasted yours!"

If there were ever a moment where time stopped, this was it. Everything around me slowed down, and all I can hear is my heart beating loud in my ears. Kuroo is seething, teeth bared in a snarl and fists ready to send me toppling to the floor of the bathroom.

I should let him. I deserve it, after all. I am made because he wasted his opportunity at greatness - and, truthfully, he's right. He took my opportunity, and he wasted it. It's that he know that and still doesn't peruse it that pisses me off. But it's not just him. It was Bokuto, too. And Daichi. And Kageyama. And Hanamaki and Matsukawa. And Iwa-

The world beings spinning again, but this time, it's because I'm falling to the floor with a hot pain shooting through the right side of my face. I taste blood, and feel the indescribable light-headed pain that comes with hitting your head on the porcelain tiles of a bathroom floor.

If it wasn't my skull that just cracked, it was my coccyx. Or maybe Kuroo's knuckles. Maybe all three.

I hear him shouting something, and then I see his blurry figure lean down over me, eyes blown wide with fear. I'm not awake conscious enough to hear what he's saying, and instead allow myself to black out.

Pain is always easier to deal with when you're asleep.

Or knocked unconscious.

 

* * *

 

He's at my side when my eyes flutter open, surrounded by blurs that are all greys and blues. Seeing my start to wake up, Terushima crouches beside me and places a hand on my chest, stopping me from sitting up.

"Nope." He shakes his head, pressing me back into the couch with a firm hand. Although it's not hard, it feels like he's just pushed the wind out of me. "Lay back down."

I scoff and swat his hand away, sitting up on my own terms. "I'm fine, Terushima." Better than I was, at least. "I just... could you get me a drink?"

"Water?"

"Yeah."

If it weren't for Kuroo and Bokuto going off their rockers, I'd never have met Terushima Yuuji. Honestly, maybe my life would have been better without meeting him - or at least, a few hangovers lighter - but it's times like these that I remember he's more than a bi-polar party animal with a fucked up history. He's also kind, and caring, and one of the greatest people to have around when you need someone. _Even if_ you don't want them.

Handing me the cool glass of water, Terushima sits down beside me on the couch and places an arm around my shoulder. I subconsciously lean into the touch. "I hope you don't mind, but I helped myself to your shower, and your clothes." I knew I recognised that sweater. And that cologne. "Kuroo let me in and told me to 'make myself at home.' I cleaned all the mess up though."

I raise an eyebrow. _Sore_. "Mess?"

He nods. "Yeah, all over the bathroom and the kitchen. Blood everywhere - it looked like someone got killed in the bathroom and dragged down the hall. It's all good now though."

I snort. "Did you actually clean it, or just get rid of the evidence?"

"Well... there's no blood there anymore, if that's what you're asking. And the bathroom looks like it's inhabited by people and not Neanderthals now. You can thank me for that when you're better."

"Thank you... is Kuroo at work?"

Stupid question. Of course he's at work. Why would I think he'd stay behind to help me? He's got a life, he's got things to do. I just sit here and look pretty. Well, sometimes.

"Yeah. He was late though. He waited around for me to get here, then he left." Terushima starts to rub small circles into my shoulder, probably subconsciously, but it's not unwelcome. "He said something about not coming back tonight though, and to let you know... it's unrelated, of course, but I just so happened to bring a my pillow with me when I came over here. So I 'spose I'll stay over and keep you company."

I snort, still clinging tightly to the glass of water between my fingertips. "You didn't bring clothes, but you brought a pillow."

"Heh, yeah. I figured sharing is caring and all that, but I wouldn't want to share your lice with anyone."

I don't even respond to that, already feeling the world around me begin to go blurry.

How did it come to this? To wanting - no, _needing_ \- to be unconscious just to face the world for only a few minutes? I thought of him, for the first time in months, and I broke down. It's like all those years of therapy were for nothing. All I had to hear was that stupid, stupid nickname, and already I had to be knocked out just so I wouldn't completely deck Kuroo.

But he deserved it. He went too far. So did I, but I had reason to. He did that just to get a few hits in, just to watch me squirm. And I hate him for it.

But most of all: I hate me. I hate me for reacting, and I hate me for having a reason for overreaching. I shouldn't be feeling like this, because none of this ever should have happened, I should never have-

I should never have been so stupid.

"Oikawa? You're crying."

"Shut up. Just leave me alone."


	3. Hajime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little by little. And then, all at once.

_'Aren't you a bit rough with that boy, Hajime?'_

_'Hm?'_

_Mom chided me with a tsk, saying goodbye to her friend and moving me along the pavement with a gentle nudge between my shoulder blades. The town was always packed at that time of day, it's amazing she never pushed me into a crowd to be lost forever. 'Tooru. His mother was just saying how he comes home with bruises from school, and as I'm aware he only plays with you. Hajime, you're not hurting that boy, ate you?'_

_Hurting him? I shook my head. 'No. I don't hurt him.' We played together, of course. I never saw him with anyone else. At least, not during lunchtime anyway. 'Does he get bullied?'_

_Mom sighed, petting me on the head and ruffling my hair. 'Oh, Hajime. Are you sure you're not too rough with him?'_

_'I don't think so. I maybe punch him once or twice or maybe sometimes three times if he gets annoying. But I don't think I've ever left a mark.'_

_'Okay, I'll believe you. But if I think for one minute that you're hurting that boy you'll be banned from every catching another bug.'_

_'Okay.'_

_I didn't have to be worried about that. I wasn't hurting him, was I? I had noticed some bruises too, but it wasn't like he was the most careful kid on the planet. Besides, the first time they were noticeable was when we were in third grade. No kid worries about injuries when they're too busy having fun and fussing over what food they plan not to like anymore._

As we aged, they became darker, and larger too. I remember the last one being about as big as a gorillas fist, right on his left shoulder. I could see it through his uniform - we all could. But that was a few weeks before we started our third year of high school. After that, I didn't see another bruise on him.

He was always very careful about what he wore.

 

* * *

 

 

Little by little, and then all at once. That's how love was described to me. I never realised how accurate this statement was, not until I began to fall, little by little.

It's scary, how accurate some descriptions of things can be. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was waiting for the all at once. That is, until I realised I'd passed that step first a long time ago.

I could never put my finger on when it began, but I know the exact time it ended. Graduation day was horrible in its own right, but when the realisation hit me that I would be forever leaving Oikawa's side, I knew that day had to be the worst I'd ever lived through.

I can't dwell on it enough; the fact that he left me without a word, and never contacted me again. I'd texted, perhaps a few times. I got a response from some guy called 'Terushima,' who had bought Oikawa's phone from him - including the number. He told me Oikawa got a new phone and moved to Tokyo, after his parents left Japan to retire overseas.

I've always wondered why he never told me that.

Sirens squeal down the streets below, and I watch the ambulances drive around the corner, mindlessly allowing myself to think about more important things. What will I have for dinner tonight? I've had take out for the past week, so I might try and get something a little healthier. All the fast food is starting to show, I think. Should I phone Matsukawa and see how things are going? We haven't spoken for over three weeks now... but I'm sure he's got better things to do than check up on me. What did he call me again? "Man-child"? That sounds about right.

In the apartment above, two people are laughing on the balcony. They clink glasses, or bottles, and one of them flicks the butt of a cigarette. It falls just past my eyes, the smell still clinging to it. As I watch it fall to the ground many feet below, I nearly loose my seat on the edge of the balcony.

That would suck if I fell off, wouldn't it. Those ambulances are pretty far away now - I can't even hear the sirens. How fast could they get back here to scrape my insides off of the pavement? Maybe I'd be permanently disabled instead.

I sigh, resting my head against the wall and looking up at the sky. It's a beautiful day; the sun is shining, the grass is greener than yesterday. It's like the rainy season didn't even exist this year. Not with all this warmth beating down on my bare skin.

 

_'Don't you just love the rain, Iwa?' Oikawa said, smiling up at the sky as the droplets fell into his open mouth, onto his eyelashes, all through his hair._

_'It's... okay, I guess.' I couldn't stop staring at him, but I knew why: he looked like a crazy person, smiling up at the sky like that. We'd known each other for two years at that point, and not once had I spent a rainy day with Oikawa outside of school. 'But aren't we going to catch a cold if we stay out too long?'_

_Mom had always told me not to stay in the rain for too long. I always had to bring an umbrella, and wait under shelter. Oikawa was always drenched during the rainy season, but not quite like this._

_Oikawa shrugged. 'Maybe. But it's nice to let the water cool your face, don't you think?'_

 

 _God_... how many days have I spent like this? How many days have I spent wandering my own mind and hoping I've got the right code somewhere to tell me how to live my life? I have no hobbies, no aspirations. Everything I've ever wanted has been handed to me on a silver platter. Gold, if I'd asked. Have I ever done anything for myself, by myself? Even this apartment. I pay for none of it, all thanks to my parents. Has their laziness been passed onto me? I'd always sworn to myself that I would make my own path, make my own life from the foundations I laid for myself.

When did I become so dependent on the decisions of other people?

It takes more effort than I'd like to address to get up from the balcony and make my way back inside. Usually, on a normal day, I'd sit in front of the TV and contemplate life some more while watching useless reality shows. Instead, I make my way to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror.

Where are my hopeful qualities? I ask myself. They're not on my face, that's for sure. What I'm looking at is the face of someone who hasn't dreamt, or hoped, or wondered for nearly ten years.

Without much else to occupy myself with, I take out a pair of tweezers from the drawer and pluck a few stray hairs from my eyebrows. It's been years since I'd done this, always having Matsukawa around to do it for me. I wonder, how will I get the thick hairs out of my ears? I've never had to do this by myself.

After a few minutes of painful, facial manscaping, three knocks at my front door startle me, and I drop the tweezers in surprise. I also managed to pull out a whole bunch of hairs that didn't need to be pulled out.

Great, now I look like a serious ass.

They knock again and shout: "Iwaizumi? Are you still alive?"

I roll my eyes, recognising the voice. Hanamaki. Unlocking the front door, I almost yank it off of its hinges. I haven't had human contact for weeks, this is like a blessing. "Yes, I'm alive." Hanamaki smirks and lets himself in, pushing past me to dump a few brown bags on the kitchen bench. "Uh. What's all this?"

"Groceries," He says, making himself at home on one of the lop-sided bar stools. "We accidentally bought too much, so I thought I'd donate to your charity fund."

"Charity fund? I'm a grown man, Maki."

I don't miss the way Hanamaki's eyebrow raises to an almost impressive place on his forehead. "Right. Sure. Also, you know you were talking to yourself, right? What were you saying about being a 'serious ass' just now?"

My stomach drops. "You heard that?"

He hums. "Yeah. Who knew you were so crazy?"

"I wasn't talking to myself. I was... on the phone, to an old friend." Yeah, right. I don't even believe it and I'm the one making it up. "They have a puppy for sale, and I apologised for being a serious ass because I can't take it."

"Aw, really? I'll take it. Who's the friend who isn't me or Issei?"

I snort. "I do have a life outside of you guys, you know." I choose to ignore Hanamaki's 'could have fooled me,' and continue on with the lie. "It was just Kozume, from Nekoma. You know how he doesn't like dogs."

Hanamaki visibly pales, and he worries his lower lip before opening his mouth to so weak. "Hajime... Kozume, he-"

We're interrupted by his phone ringing loudly from his pocket, and he stops himself to answer it after sighing exhaustedly at the caller ID. "Hello, Koutarou. Is this an emergency?"

I tune out of the conversation, walking back to the bathroom to pick up the tweezers I'd dropped. I don't even bother glancing in the mirror - I already know I look like shit. It's usually like that. You don't think you look as tired as you feel until you talk to someone else, and they remind you of how much they're progressed and how you're still stagnant.

"That's okay. We've talked about this. Can you recite the steps for me?"

I'm almost jealous of Takahiro. He went from a Supreme Memelord in high school to one of the greatest psychiatrists in the whole of Japan. He's got a waiting list of over several months for new patients. Isn't that just insane? Maybe that's why he manages to make me see my true self so easily.

He also manages to make me feel stupid too, always trying to cover up the complete sorry-ass slob I've become over the years. I begin to pack away the groceries he'd bought over as he finishes up the conversation, keeping my self-depreciating thoughts to myself.

Oh how I wish to have my motivated thought-processes of youth back again.

"See? You haven't forgotten anything. I'll see you in a few days' time, Bokuto. Can you tell me what you're thankful for? ... that's good to hear. Have a nice afternoon." Hanamaki hangs up the phone and gives me a slight smirk. "You remember the ace from Fukurodani?"

I nod. "Who could forget him? I don't think I've ever been more fired up to play a game than I have whenever we've been in a three mile radius of the guy."

Hanamaki laughs. "That's true. He's one of my most successful clients, I'd say. I won't do into detail about him or anything, it's against my code of practice, but I have to say: for someone who doesn't tell the whole truth, he's come pretty far from what he used to be like."

I lower my eyebrows and glare at him. "You didn't even try to cover up that shot at me, did you."

"Nope. I think it's time we got you some serious help. I'm willing to talk to you as your friend and offer you friend-grade advice, but I think it would be best if you saw a psychiatrist. Even just once, Hajime. You might find they have the answers you're looking for to get your life back on track."

"Why can't I just see you?"

He snorts. "One, I'm still going to charge you. And two, I think it would be both an invasion of your privacy and a court case waiting to happen, considering we already know more about each other than a client and a psychiatrist probably should. You know?"

I hate to agree with him, but he's right. About everything, I guess.

"I don't need a psychiatrist. I just need... more time. I need more time to think about what I'm going to do with my life and how I'm gonna do it." I'm unconvincing, I know that, but I continue on with my so-called promises while I unpack the rest of the groceries. "I'm thinking of looking for a job soon, anyway."

"Don't think: do."

"Mmhm."

Hanamaki leaves after about half an hour of telling me what to do and getting nowhere. Perhaps the term "man-child" wasn't an overstatement after all.

I take his leave as a chance to get my head out of my arse and be an adult for once. I could go looking for places to pick up an application, or maybe even use some savings to eat out at a nice restaurant, instead of order take-out.

Yeah. I can do that.

But no burgers this time. I want a proper, good meal. Filling, but not too fattening. Like old times, when me and Hanamaki and Matsukawa and-

Like old times when the team would go out for dinner after winning a match. We'd won so many, shared so many meals together. Those times were nice. Or perhaps they were just normal. Routine, even.

That's what I need. I need a new routine, one that's easy to follow, and not too time-consuming. Just enough to get me started. After all, I'm in a position so many people my age would kill to be in. I have an apartment of my own, and my parents pay the bills. I'm taking all of that for granted, and it needs to stop.

I always promised myself I would never become a stay-at-home layabout. It's time to stay true to my younger self and become the person I always wanted to be; the person that I've always been.

There's no slump you can't get out of. I mean, as sperm we made it to the womb without eyes.

_'If we can do that, we can do anything.'_

- **x** -

_'Wow. You really think so, Iwa?'_

_'Of course, dummy. Especially now that we have brains and arms and legs.' I dragged him along the riverbank, my eyes furiously scanning the water for any signs of fish. I'd promised I would get Oikawa a fish for his birthday that year after all, especially after his dog had died._

_'So we will definitely catch a fish then! I'm excited!'_

_I'd smiled, his hand still warm in my own. He was excited, and for that, I was so glad._

_'Do you want a big one or a small one?' I'd asked, frowning at the bucked we'd bought along with us. I hoped he would only want a medium sized one, at largest._

_'Any fish! The very first one we can catch should be nice!'_

 

In fourth grade, I caught a wild cod for Oikawa's birthday. I also received three lashings across my bare ass from my father for falling into the river and daring to come into the house with mud trailing in behind me and a fish in his work bucket. Needless to say, Oikawa's smile was enough to help be through the pain of not being able to sit down for a week.

At that age, I would have done a thing for Oikawa. As we grew, that never changed. I would always be there to help Oikawa when he needed it. But when he didn't need me, I realised it was _me_ who needed _him_. I carried my own world on my shoulders, and he was the support beam that I didn't know was assisting me until he disappeared and I nearly crumbled.

But I don't need a psychiatrist to tell me that, even if they are a friend of Hanamaki's.

 _'I'm serious, Hajime,'_ He'd said, already on the phone to me an hour after he'd left my house. ' _Just leave my name at the front desk and you'll be able to see someone within the hour.'_

He wasn't wrong.

Shimizu Kiyoko invites me into her counselling room after fifteen minutes. Apparently, the guy before me was her last client, and she had time to see me for half an hour.

"It's nice to see you again, Iwaizumi," She says with a smile. "I'm Shimizu Kiyoko, but in here you can call me whatever you like. This is a safe space, and a confidential space, so feel free to take things at your leisure."

I nod, palms sweaty and gut knitting. "I'm, uh. I'm not really sure what I'm doing here."

"Takahiro told me you might say something like that. He mentioned you're having some trouble finding work. Should we start there?"

"N-no. Well, yes I am having trouble finding work, but that's not the most important thing right now. I just... I need my motivation back. I'm not depressed or anything, I'm just having a hard time finding meaning in what I'm doing. Does that make sense?"

Shimizu smiles, almost sheepishly. "That's a clear sign of depression, Hajime. I'd like to say quickly, before we move on, that depression has no set symptoms or causes. It comes and goes, at different levels of intensity. Sometimes you barely notice it. As a professional, I would like you to understand that I'm not telling you what you're feeling, but I will try to help you understand the possibilities."

I bite my lip and nod, and she continues. She clearly knows more about these feelings than I do. It's about time someone did. "Do you think you have an idea of when these feelings started?"

I shake my head. "No. I more noticed them when I finished school, though."

Little by little, and then all at once. Shimizu talks me through a few strategies to stop episodes of "disassociation," which will apparently help stop me from having these thoughts of uselessness.

It's crazy, that just a little over half an hour with her and I've already been able to voice feelings I'd never quite understood before.

I bare the burden of my friends, my family, the people I know who work to make a living rather than mooch off of their parents. But this draining, hefty weight on my shoulders all but crushes my body, makes my chest cave in and my ribs snap against the sheer, brutal force of the universe shoving this burden in my face.

I'd never been able to describe it before.

Maybe that's because I didn't _want_ to.

I make it to the nicer part of town in no time, with a list of things I need to buy in the back of my mind. I'll have to eat dinner first. And then I'll walk to the supermarket and buy a few more ingredients to cook a nice stir fry meal for myself tomorrow night. That's what adults do, isn't it? They have a running mental list of what they need, and then they think about dinner?

That's what my parents did anyway, I think.

I say 'I think' because suddenly, I'm hit with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. I can't remember much else but him. All around me the lights of the town blur, and the people don't exist, and the planets bend between me and a familiar feeling and warmth spreads throughout my body.

Staring into the chocolate-coloured irises of my childhood leaves me speechless. Yet, I can feel what it's doing to my insides; what he's doing to my insides. It's just the same as before. Time, and time again, I stare at this colour that decorates every cake store, that is heartache disguised as wrapping paper at Christmas.

A wolf dressed in a sheep's clothing. Except the wolf was a scared little boy, and the sheep an indecisive, perhaps even lost man.

He swallows. I choke. This isn't happening.

"Iwaizumi... is that- is it really you?"

No. It's not. It hasn't been for a while.

I nod, apprehensively, but quickly, and blood rushes to my head making me dizzy but I don't dare speak. I'm afraid of what might come out. Profanities, tears, some dumbfounded expression of longing and desperation that I've kept inside of me for too long now for it to be healthy.

Oikawa smiles. Soft, gentle. Still so fucking fake it makes me want to punch him. But I can't move to do it. "You look... great. You look really, really great, I- wow. It's been a long time, huh."

I can't say the same for him. You look terrible, I want to say. But I don't speak. I can't speak. After all these years... where has he been hiding? What does he do for a living? Where does he live? Is he alone? Does he still buy the cheap dollar store shampoo and spend his money on the expensive mousse instead?

The state of his appearance tells me that he doesn't care much for that stuff anymore. He's really lost himself, it seems. Is this why he didn't speak to me? Because he was afraid of what he was turning out to be?

Oikawa rakes a nervous hand through his oily, unruly hair and takes a step back. "I'm sorry. Maybe you've forgotten who I am it's been so long." His glasses haven't been cleaned in weeks, maybe even months; covered in scratches and fingerprints. "It's Oikawa To-"

"I know who you are, Oikawa." My voice is gravelly, stern. It covers up the wavering feeling in my throat. I draw in a deep breath, unsure of what to say next.

We're not close anymore. I can't just say the first thing that comes to mind and then offer him dinner or coffee or a place to stay. I can't allow him to cling to me like a child. I can't let him call me by my first name, or play with my hair and have it mean nothing yet everything all at once, or listen intently as he talks about the first year he taught how to serve or the girl he had to shoot down because she reminded him too much of Kyotani.

If we can't say any of that, then... what can we say?

"I'm sorry."

I blink. Once, twice. Three times maybe, before my mind finally registers what he'd just said. His eyes are teary, and the tip of his nose is red from the chill of the night air.

"What for?"

When had it become so cold?

He shrugs, rubbing at his nose and blinking back tears, or tiredness. "I'm just... I'm sorry, for a lot of things. It's good to see you."

I nod. Once, twice. Three times maybe, before I allow myself to step closer to him, the  
gap between becoming smaller, until we're nearly face to face and there are no longer any people around us because everything but one another is irrelevant.

"It's good to see you too... I miss-"

"-I missed you, Hajime."

My heart beats. Once, twice. Three times maybe. Little by little, and then all at once. It's as if the worlds worst violinist just played my heartstrings, and snapped them in two, simultaneously breaking down the iron wall I'd built around the shrivelled up thing.

He laughs, nervously, and his shaking hand reaches out to grip onto the sleeve of my jacket. I can see the goosebumps on his skin, the purple hue to the tips of his fingers. How long has he been out in the cold wearing this flimsy sweater?

"U-um. I was told you'd be out here tonight, so I- I came out here to wait for you." Oikawa steps even closer, if possible, and his left hand raises to mimic his right. "I'm so sorry, Hajime. I'm so sorry for everything. I regret so much, and I've missed you, and I haven't known what to do for so long I don't think I ever knew what to do but God have I missed you so, so, so-"

"Tooru." His name sounds foreign, but it tastes so sweet. "I've- I've missed you too. And I'm sorry, too."

Tears threaten to spill from Oikawa's tear ducts as he smiles sheepishly. "Sorry for what? We haven't spoken for so long, and it was because of me. It's my fault. It's all been my fault."

I can't disagree with him. But I won't tell him that, not yet. Not like this.

I want to pull him into an embrace and feel the familiarity of his skin against mine and revel in the feeling for even a few moments. I want to remember everything I'd worked so hard to forget. But I can't just say the first thing that comes to mind and then offer him dinner or coffee or a place to stay. I can't allow him to cling to me like a child.

But I do. I do, because I've never been able to stop myself.

"Do you, um. Do you want to come back to my place? For dinner, or coffee or something? Do you have somewhere to stay?"

 

* * *

 

All at once, it happened so fast. Three weeks ago, if you'd have told me I would run into the childhood friend who had deserted me without reason after we graduated high school, I would have called you a lunatic and spent countless sleepless night praying for it to be true.

But it is. It is true, because Oikawa Tooru is leaning into my chest on my couch. Yes, the very same Oikawa Tooru who had waited three hours out in the freezing cold, in a city he was no longer used to, just to try and catch me to apologise for whatever the hell he feels the need to apologise to.

I do not forgive him. But God am I happy to see him. I'm happy to see him, and to hold him, and to pretend like I haven't spent three years of my life regretting the things I'd enjoyed. He was a friend, indeed. But we were so much more too.

We've been friends, and lovers, and rivals, and strangers. Now, I don't know what we are, but we're together and feeling an abundance of emotions all at once.

"Why did you come back?"

I feel him swallow against my chest. Part of me hopes that he's asleep, so that I can approach the situation at a better time, in a better way. But he mumbles something into my shirt before sitting up a little to answer.

"I don't... I don't know. I think if I'd stayed away, pretending everything was okay, for too much longer, I would have- I would have gone crazy."

I nod absently. "And what about... why did you leave?"


	4. Tooru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi calling...

_'Go to Miyagi and look for him then.'_

_'What?'_

_Kuroo sighed, tapping his pen on the kitchen counter with a bored expression. 'You miss Iwaizumi, don't you?' He asked, giving me a sly glance over the dark rim of his glasses. 'Honestly, I've noticed it for a while. I think the whole apartment complex has.'_

_Had he been eavesdropping on my conversation with Shimizu? No... he wouldn't do that. I bit my lip. Could I really just go there and look for him? I've needed help standing on my own two feet for over four years now. I'm not sure I could trust myself to do it._

_'Who says he's still even in Miyagi? He might have moved somewhere else. Maybe somewhere foreign.'_

_'You're forgetting I used to run miles when I needed to, Oikawa. I have connections in Miyagi who are very good at identifying people.' Kuroo's smirk lacks conviction. 'He's there. I promise.'_

_I begin to fight, even knowing that he's telling the truth. 'Right. So he's somewhere in the entire Miyag prefecture. That narrows it down so much, so thanks Tetsu, but no thanks.'_

_It couldn't be that easy. It's not allowed to be that easy. Years and years of trying desperately to find any excuse not to leave Tokyo, not even for a minute, could not be taken away from me by a few train stops._

_'Didn't he always go out for dinner on a Saturday night? To that little noodle shack? If you guys won a game, that is.'_

_I snorted. 'Why would he still do that?'_

_Because he's a stickler for routine; because he loved our team more than anything; because if he's in the same place as me right now he'd do anything to have back the moments we treasured so dearly, that meant so much to us._

_'I dunno. Sometimes I still get the urge on a Friday night to drive out to the park and do body shots with Bokuto. I don't, obviously, but my body still remembers the time of day. Maybe his does too? I mean, same difference really.'_

_I was unconvinced. Not even Shimizu had convinced me that Iwaizumi wanted to see me at that point in time, and if a psychiatrist couldn't convince me, then there's just no hope that he'd want to see me. Not after everything I did..._

_'Why would he suddenly want to go out for dinner, just because he used to? Sounds stupid to me.'_

_'Whatever you say, bud. But Seijou did win against Shiratorizawa today.'_

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi bites his lip, and seeing that action has me forcing down an abundance of feelings in the form of word vomit threatening to escape. I swallow, my hands finding the small of his back tentatively, trying desperately to make sure he doesn't leave me.

"Oikawa... please." Iwaizumi's eyes plead more than his voice, and my heart just about shatters. I did this. "I need you to tell me. Why did you leave? Where did you go?"

I breathe in deeply, before pulling away to scan his face. My eyes dart all over the place, a desperate attempt to stop the flow of tears that threaten to leave me.

"Tokyo. You know that, Iwa-"

"No, I mean... where did you go, when you disappeared off of the edge of the world? Where were you when I called, and texted, and biked all the way to Tokyo just to see you?"

I swallow, staring at a spot on the floor before making eye contact with him once more. "I didn't go anywhere, Iwa. I was always in Japan. Maybe you just didn't look hard enough."

This reminds me of the past.

Iwaizumi takes his hands off of me, almost pushing me away. "Stop it."

_How pathetic._

I blink up at him, helplessly. "Stop what?"

" _This_." His words seethe with rage, years worth of venom coming back to poison faster than they ever would have if we'd just talked. "Stop trying to con me into thinking that you're okay, that this is okay. It's not. You're being childish."

My stomach twists. My heart feels heavy.

I feel weak.

"We graduated and you left without a word, Tooru. Suddenly, it wasn't your stupid texts coming through at four in the goddamn morning, it was social media notifications of where you were going and what great plans you had. Don't you think that hurt? Don't you think that, if there was ever anything in the first place, that it needed to be talked about? Instead of just ignored?"

"Iwa, please, I-"

"But you know what hurt even more? When all of those notifications just stopped. At first I just thought you'd deleted me as a friend, or started using another account, but then you hadn't posted anything anywhere in two years and I'd thought you'd gone and done something stupid! You knew what happened with the Nekoma kid! You knew what was happening to that ace from Fukurodani! I was fucking worried about uou, Tooru! Where's the explanation, huh? How are you going to pull a fast one here?"

I draw in a short breath, feeling my feet against the ground and reminding myself that I cannot fall. "I had... _things_ to sort out, Iwaizumi. We've all had to deal with leaving home and becoming adults and finding new things to take our interest and I just- I haven't know what to do. I thought it would be better if I just cut everyone from my past out of my life and completely moved forward but-"

I can see the hurt and confusion on his expression, and I wish I could tell him a lie right now but I just can't.

_I'm sorry, Hajime._

"-but I couldn't because all I could think about was you and how life had been so much better when I had someone by my side that I could trust-"

" _No_! You don't get to do this! You don't get to come back into my life, mess around with me, and then just leave! We did that, and where did it get us? On the back end of a cycle that never had to fucking happen... _we_ never had to happen."

I sniff, and my eyes meet his for the first time this evening in a way they hadn't done in so very long. He's crying, and I'm crying, and his face is contort with pain, but he looks me in the eyes regardless and takes a deep breath, waiting for me to speak.

Why are we such pitiful people?

"You have every right to be mad, and I have every right to tell you to fuck off and take your stupid emotional reasoning with you. But I'm not going to. We did have to happen, because we both wanted something to happen between us. I had no choice. I had to disappear for a long time or else I'd never have peace of mind-"

"So you left me in the dark?" He shouts.

"So I protected you!" I yell, tears stinging my eyes.

"Oh please, Oikawa. Don't play that bullshit one-liner with me. This isn't some fairytale! It's real life, and if it has to hurt then it has to fucking hurt!"

"Well then I'm sick and tired of hurting!" I shout, wincing as my hand hits the hard back of the couch and starts to throb immediately. "I'm sick of hurting! And I'm sick of hurting others! And I'm sick and tired of always having to smile and laugh because no one likes me when I'm doing anything else. I'm selfish, and I'm rude, and I'm _so far up my own ass_ that I couldn't even bring myself to tell you that I ran my fucking nephew over and he died when I was eighteen! All because my stupid face was printed on the front cover of a fucking magazine and those stupid people wouldn't stop rubbing it in my face!"

His hands wrap around my body, almost on instinct. I shove him off. "I hate pretending! I don't want to pretend anymore, but I have no fucking choice! I don't want to re-live the things I did because that hurts more than any bruise or 'I'm disappointed in you' ever could! I hate coming back to you because all I ever do is fuck things up! I left because you're better off without me, Iwaizumi. Everybody is! You're worth so much more than I could ever wish to be, and every time you're around me I chip away that worth with whatever the fuck is lurking inside me-"

"Oikawa-"

"I don't justify anything that I've done, but for all the times I've been hit, I've hit. For all the times I've cried, I've made others cry. For all the times I've been broken, I've broken someone. For all the times I fought off the urge to call you, I fought off whatever it is inside my head telling me everyone's lives would be so much better if I weren't always in the back of their minds bringing them down."

"You're strong," Iwaizumi says, voice wavering. "Stronger than lots of people. You break, but you don't ever let that stop you from-"

"But is has!" I cry, gripping at the front of his shirt with timid, shaky fingers. "It has stopped me, Hajime. I've hurt so many people, I even fucking killed a kid because I was careless and stupid and so, so fucking full of myself. I didn't even take into consideration that anybody else was there to genuinely care for me!"

"Oikawa..."

I'm so sorry. That's what he wants to say, I know it. But he has no right. I have so much to be sorry for, so many things I need to apologise for that I never will.

He doesn't have to apologise for anything. It should be me apologising to him for flinging myself back into his life without warning, without even a simple text message. Even without my old phone, I know his number off by heart.

"I don't... I don't want an apology, Iwaizumi. And- and I don't want to come into your life and... mess around with you." I move away from him, sitting up on my own and leaning against the couch with a shaky sigh. "This is so stupid, but you've always helped me see the things I'd never be able to see on my own. I'd have way more regrets in life if I hadn't had you there to help me. I just... I wish I'd t-told you this stuff sooner."

Iwaizumi nods, reaching out a hand to place it on my shoulder. "Me too. But... you're still stronger than you give yourself credit for." I try not to linger on the touch too much, especially when he removes his hand and places it stiffly back in his lap. "And you don't sound stupid. I- I can see where you're coming from. I understand the feeling."

Yeah, right. I'm sure you understand what it's like to not only feel worthless, but be worthless. I'm sure you look at yourself in the mirror and see a sorry excuse for a human being who wasted so much of his life worrying about his appearance and his social status to realise that these things were hurting not only the people around him, but himself.

The things I did to earn my title, to earn my own respect... nobody should have to do those things, or think those things, just to get where they want to be. Self-loathing shouldn't be used as motivation. Envy shouldn't be used as motivation.

Beating your disgusting reflection to a pulp shouldn't be motivation.

"Oikawa."

"What?"

"You matter." Iwaizumi places a tender, tentative hand on my thigh. "You matter to so many people, no matter what you've done. People make mistakes, it's inevitable. But... you can't keep beating yourself up over something, no matter what it was. You're hurting, and you've been hurt, and you've hurt, but that doesn't make you any more or less deserving of a happy life than it does anyone else."

I roll my eyes. "You have to say that. You're comforting me."

"And a moment ago I was screaming at you. I'm not happy with this. I'm not happy with you, or this situation, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I don't have to say anything, I'm choosing to."

"Why the hell would you choose to tell me something like that?"

"Because I don't think you've been told that you matter in a really long time."

- **x** -

_'I hate this. I'm never going back to school ever again.'_

_'Never ever?'_

_'Never. Ever.'_

_'Wow.' I didn't look convinced, but Iwaizumi insisted he was never going back to school by keeping his arms crossed and his expression sour. 'That's a long time not to go to school, you know. I think you're just being childish, Iwa.'_

_'Me!? You're the one who wanted to do our stupid project on aliens, Shittykawa! We can't find any good resources because there's no proof they actually exist! We should have done Godzilla. At least there's a movie about him-'_

_'I already showed you the X-Files! And E.T! And Life on Mars, Planet 51, Echo, Aliens in the Attic-'_

_Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around my upper body until we both fell backward onto the floor of my bedroom, narrowly missing my bedside table. 'Shh. You need to stop talking, you're making my head hurt.'_

_'And you nearly decapitated mine! What was that for?'_

_Iwaizumi leaned up and pressed a soft, tender kiss to my lips, his other hand smoothing back my hair. 'Because I love you. And I want you to stop talking, so I can enjoy your company instead of doing this stupid assignment.'_

_I chuckled, leaning into his familiar touch. 'Aren't you just a romantic. Why don't we take a break, and then we'll finish this thing later. Make it look like we're doing work when my folks are around.'_

_Iwaizumi and I met half way to kiss again, this time a little less gentler. 'Sounds like a plan. I love you.'_

_'I love you too, Hajime.'_

_Together, we were happy. Apart, I couldn't even fool myself. Perhaps that why things turned out the way they did, because deep down, I knew it was inevitable for us to break down._

- **x** -

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

He doesn't. He _can't_. Nobody who's been ignored by someone they once loved unconditionally could continue to care about them in the same way like he claims to.

'But you did,' I remind myself. I've continued to love him even when he hasn't been near me. I continued to love him even after I told him that I didn't. What kind of person does that make me? A hypocrite? A sociopath? I can't think of a single answer. At least, not one that doesn't end with me feeling like shit about myself.

Iwaizumi sighs, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. "Tsuru no Ongaeshi: a man saves a crane, and then marries the crane who disguises itself as a beautiful woman. The crane plucks its own feathers to create a beautiful material that sells for a large sum of money, as it is indebted to the family who saved it, but in doing so makes itself ill. When the man finds out the truth about the woman being a crane, she leaves him."

I blink. Once, twice. Slowly, I form the words my expression speaks for me. "... am I the crane."

He nods. "You are."

"And you're the man?"

"I am."

I bite my lip. "Have you saved me already? Or are you saving me now?"

Iwaizumi shrugs, now turning his head to look at me. "I'm not sure yet. You've left me already, but that was before you told me the truth... I guess whatever happens now is up to you."

It's up to me, huh.

 _._..

_'You're sure?'_

_'Yes. N-no. I don't- I don't know.' I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, temped to pull more clumps out of it just to satiate my annoyance at myself. 'I don't want to... to leave you, but. It's just hard right now. I don't think- I don't think either of us are getting what we could be, not when things are so tough.'_

_Iwaizumi bit his lip, eyebrows creased in confusion. 'Aren't we supposed to be closer than ever before when things get rough? Aren't we supposed to... to, I don't know, take the good with the bad but get through it all because we have each other?'_

_No. It wasn't like that at all, Hajime. That's film, and fiction. Reality doesn't want people to be honest wit each other; it doesn't allow us to. And I wouldn't have allowed myself to tell you the truth, because you'd never have believed me._

_I mean, who would believe that the prodigy child Oikawa Tooru; perfect, handsome, charming, witty, impressionable Oikawa Tooru; was so broken and terrified?_

_Nobody. Not my parents, not the counsellors, not the self-help section of magazines._

_If there's anybody I had that would believe me, I had to cling onto the false sense of hope that it was him. That's why he couldn't know. He couldn't know about the things that went through my mind, or the things that had happened as a result._

_I wouldn't allow it._

 

* * *

 

"I'm going to go home now," I say, sitting up to prepare myself to leave. If I stay any longer I know I'll do something I'll regret. Or at least, something I'll want to regret. "It was nice running into you again, Iwaizumi."

He scoffs. "Idiot. You made sure I'd run into you... why do you have to leave so soon? Don't you want to stay for coffee or- or something?"

 _Yes. Yes, I do_. "No, it's fine. I think it's best that I- that we just live our own lives now... I didn't think that, but. I don't want to remember things I've worked so hard to forget."

"If you have to work to forget things then doesn't that mean they're worth remembering?"

And he calls _me_ the idiot. "You can't just say things like that," I say, not caring myself to look him in his honest eyes. "Not when I'm trying to say goodbye."

Iwaizumi sits forward. "Why are you trying to say goodbye now? I thought we got past this. I want to be around you - hell, you came looking for me, after all these years-"

"And it was a mistake, Hajime. It was a mistake." I run my fingers through my hair and stand up, beginning to pace around his living room. "I've said too much already, okay? I see you, and all I can think about is when we were together and things were good and life was enjoyable and we were happy but- but we can't have that now. We've changed. Our lives have changed. We can never go back to being like that."

Iwaizumi makes his way over to me, placing his strong hands on my biceps and pinning my arms to my sides. "We'd never be the same as we were back then regardless of what's happened, Oikawa. People change, that's life. But that doesn't mean we can't be happy as we are now, maybe even happier."

"You really believe that?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't eventually."

I can see what's happening. I can feel it in the air, this cycle of never-ending arguments that will end with us in some impromptu non-committal relationship thing with no proper resolution of anything. It's happened all before, where we've thought that if only we had each other, then everything would be okay. But it won't- it can't. We can't keep being naive anymore.

Why is it that the only person who told me that doesn't believe it themselves?

"Iwaizumi... I'm sorry."

Perhaps this is why I left without a word. Maybe, these feelings of guilt and anguish and sadness, were best left alone as scabs instead of being picked at, left to bleed open and fester.

I'm not sure how long it takes me to realise that I'm already back on the train to Tokyo. Longer than it should, at least. All I can see in the forefront of my mind is the look of betrayal on Iwaizumi's face as I left him.

Maybe this is what Shimizu meant when she said its best to wait. I wanted to see him, but I wasn't ready. He wanted to see me, but he didn't need to.

Maybe he never actually wanted to in the first place.

Rain hits the window of the train compartments heavily, and I find myself drifting off to the sound. It's been so long since I last heard the rain so clearly. Usually it's muffled by Kuroo's loud music or TV shows, and sometimes my own. More often than not, I'm too focused on whatever is going on inside my head to listen to what's going on around me.

I think I was only awake for a quarter of the new Star Wars move before my mind went on a tangent and the next thing I knew I was sobbing into Kuroo's shirt in his bed.

It's... _nice_. Nice to be awake, that is, instead of just mindlessly going through life without taking the time to be apart of what's going on around you. What's that saying? Climb the mountain but remember to stop and smell the flowers?

I don't think that's right, but it'll do.

It'll do, because it has to. I haven't had many voices of reason in my life, not now, and not anytime before now. I find reason wherever I can, even if it's in incorrect sayings and old text messages from the person who isn't the same person as he was in high school.

Kuroo is waiting for me on the couch when I open the door to our - his - apartment. I don't even have the time to shuffle over to him before he's by my side and bringing me into a tight embrace.

He hadn't replied to my text, but he'd clearly read it.

"I'm sorry," He says, cradling me into his chest. "I should've pretended like I knew what wasn't going to happen."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and shake my head into his neck. "No, it's my fault. I knew what would happen, I just pretended like I didn't for some sick sense of personal relief. I'm sorry you have to deal with me."

Our voices, our apologies, they're mumbled in the fabric of each others' shirts. In the end, I'm not sure what we're even apologising for. Maybe we're apologising to ourselves for what we've done. In the end, it doesn't matter, because by the time the sun sets beyond the Tokyo skyscrapers we're lying on the couch in each others' arms, surrounded by used tissues, our eyes red and burning.

I wish I could say that lying in Kuroo's arms meant something to me. Maybe then I'd forget about everything I thought I wanted and just be happy with what I've got but- it doesn't. It doesn't mean what I wish it did.

I mean, of course it means something, I don't think I could appreciate his presence anymore than I already do. Is just different to what this kind of situation usually is. When we're lying together, or sleeping in the same bed, we don't feel any kind of connection. Not romantically, at least. I love Kuroo with all of my heart, but not in any way that makes me want to cuddle him and kiss him and always be near him. And I know he loves me too, if all the drunken confessions of his 'no homo love' is anything to go by.

But I don't feel the same lying next to him as what I do when I'm even standing in front of Iwaizumi. I have to wonder... who does he lie next to? Who comforts him when he's down or stressed or anxious? Does he have anyone at all? Does he need anyone at all?

Does he ever think of me? Is he ever reminded of the times where we would lie side by side on his bed, beneath the covers, nuzzled into each others' chests with nothing but our breathing and our hearts beating and our bodies together? I do. I think of that all the time, and yet, I have absolutely no right to.

I'm the reason we're not lying side by side now. Or at least, one of the reasons. Maybe we wouldn't have lasted, but even if that was going to be the case, I could be feeling something while lying beside Kuroo. But I'm not. And he's not. We both long for someone we can't have for one reason or another, and the harsh reality of it is, we're both a part of the reason for that.

Kuroo mumbles something into the back of my neck, his hands pressing flat against my bare chest. "What was that?" I whisper, should the Iwaizumi of my mind hear me wishing that I loved Kuroo the way I loved him.

He snorts, removing his face from my neck to speak. "You're tense, and I can't sleep that way."

"Sorry... good night, Kuroo."

"'Night, Oikawa."

We could be happy together, I know this much. Perhaps one day we might just fall in love - but I'm not sure that's what needs to happen. I think I need to experience this crushing loneliness a little longer. If I take the easy way out, I'll never learn, and one day I will hurt someone else by trying to protect myself.

I won't let that happen again.

- **x** -

When I wake up, the sun filtering in through the broken blinds, I'm alone. I've clearly only just missed Kuroo heading out for work, because the smell of coffee and toast is still fresh in the air.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, making patterns in the popcorn texture. Birds sing outside, someone beeps their horn, and the neighbours are clearly already drinking on their balcony. It wouldn't even be eight in the morning yet.

And then my phone buzzes form the coffee table, startling me out of my morning daze.

"How are you still alive?" I ask it, turning to reach for the buzzing thing. I don't think I've charged it for days now. Who would even be calling me at this hour anyway-

**_Iwaizumi calling..._ **


	5. Hajime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the least I can do for him. I have to remember that we've both changed. In our three years apart, we've done and seen so many different things - I can't just pretend that change hasn't already happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Part one of the series is done!! I'm so excited to reveal the rest of the secrets in the other parts~  
> Hope to see you once they're released! Thanks for reading xx  
> ____  
> On a side note: who's story would you like to hear next?   
> Bokuto / Nishinoya / Tsukishima   
> (Each of these include snippets of other character stories... choose wisely! Psst. If you're looking for Kuroo's part, it's happening, but I'd like to upload that last for added angst effect. Enjoy!)

It was a warm evening in spring, one of the first of our third year at Seijou. Oikawa and I were walking to the train station after practise, complaining about Makki and Matsukawa's recent extent of PDA. But then, at some unidentifiable point, we became quiet. I didn't notice the tension of the silence until it was cut by Oikawa's voice.

'Iwa, I-... can you stop for a second?'

My stomach lurched at the tone of his voice, and I turned towards him immediately. He was a few paces behind me, eyes focused intensely on the ground around his feet. I took a single step forward, tentatively awaiting his words. What was he going to say? Would he not be able to make it to practise at some point? Was a family member ill? Had he caught a cold?

Was he thinking about quitting the team?

Surely not, I'd thought, in the fleeting seconds I had to think. He'd never quit the team, no matter what. In fact, even if the earth around us was falling apart, he'd still never lose that passion for volleyball. I hoped.

'Mm?'

Oikawa rubbed at the back of his neck. 'I think... I think I've got a bruise on my neck, or a bump of some sort. Can you check it for me?'

I sighed, striding behind him to lift his mop of hair and check for whatever it was he thought was there. Seriously? He made such a big deal about a little lump? I couldn't feel a lump, but I could feel him shiver beneath my touch. I pretended not to notice just as much as he pretended it didn't happen.

'It's fine, there's nothing there.' We began to walk again, Oikawa a few paces behind me. 'Did Kindaichi finally serve revenge into your neck or something?'

He didn't respond. We walked in silence again, this time even more uncomfortable, until finally I decided the air was humid enough without the weird tension. 'What is it?' I asked, trying so find some answer in his body language alone before he broke the potentially terrifying news. Clearly something wasn't right.

He bit his lip to look me in the eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. I could tell he was close to tears. 'I need to... to tell you something. And I didn't want to do it before our first round of games, but I- I have to. I know it's our last year of high school and it's important we focus on studies and volleyball but... it's eating me up inside, and even if it puts us off of our game I don't care, because it'll be worse for me if I don't just say something so I-'

'Oikawa. Just talk, I don't care.'

That was where I made my first mistake. I told him that I didn't care. I cared more than I could ever say, but I've never been one to think things through before I say them.

'Okay. Okay, well I- God, I'm sorry. And I'm so fucking nervous.' He shook, and cursed, and I almost thought nothing of it. 'I just need to say that- well, I- I like you. A lot.'

He only told me one thing that was eating him up inside, and in the whole scheme of things, it wasn't the important thing. I'd snorted, looking him up and down. 'Well I'd hope so, we've been friends for over ten years.'

Oikawa chuckled nervously, before taking a few brave and daring steps forward and pressing his lips gently to time. 'I meant I like you as more than a friend,' He said as he pulled away, hands shaking.

Whatever gave him the courage to do that, I'll probably never know, but I'll be damned if I regret that fleeting moment in the slightest.

He didn't say anything else after that. Oikawa, in all his cowardice, ran off ahead of me to make it to the train station. I ran after him, blushing like an idiot and calling out his name, but he didn't stop. Instead, he managed to make it to the train before me, and it left before I could make it onto the platform.

He didn't answer his phone that night. He didn't check his emails, or update any social media whatsoever. It was as if, for a little under twenty-four hours, he disappeared off of the face of the earth.

But he wouldn't skip volleyball training. Not even if his life depended on it.

- **x** -

'Are you sure?'

'It's only Nekoma. After this game it's likely we'll never play them again, considering the rotations of the schools. It'll be fine, I promise.'

Oikawa always made stupid promises.

Our coach nodded, jotting something down on his notepad before shooing Oikawa away, chiding him about injuring himself again. Our eyes met in haste, and Oikawa gave a shy wave, before moving to the sidelines to shake the Nekoma captains hand and begin the match.

We lost that day. Our last game against Nekoma as third years, and I could almost safely bet that it was completely my fault. Or Oikawa's. Mainly mine though, because our rotation was different that game.

I remembered Oikawa talking to the coach when I first arrived, and I knew immediately who to blame for that, but it didn't really matter. All I could think about was the way the two captains looked at one another, and the almost strategically-placed marks on Oikawa's neck and thighs.

I didn't waste time in trying to figure out how he'd got those marks, or what he'd done as a result of them. I knew exactly what he'd done - it was what he always did; avoiding the situation altogether by making a decision on a whim that even he wasn't certain about. And right after he'd confessed to me too, in all his raw, emotional glory.

God, I'm sorry. When he'd said that... maybe he wasn't apologising for his confession. Maybe it was an apology for what he was going to do, no matter how I reacted. And I'd told him that I didn't care about what he had to say.

But that came back to bite me in the ass once the match was finished, because I can't help but listen in on conversations when I'm emotional.

Oikawa and Kuroo were talking in the storage room, Kuroo backed up to the wall with Oikawa rubbing his biceps.

I couldn't look away, because god I wished that was me.

'You know, if I find out you've done it again I'll call up your school and get them to have you put in solitary confinement, Tetsurou. I can't stand knowing something that not even your own team knows.'

He called him by his first name.

'Oikawa, you found out on incident, not because I wanted you to. Don't concern yourself with my problems. How about you focus on your own. You know, paying attention to what's right in front of you.'

Oikawa chuckled, low and sultry. 'You mean you? Right here, in the storage closet?'

Kuroo snorted, pushing him away a little. 'I mean the problem with a certain someone in your team. I'm not going to come in between something like that - you know I have my own feelings to deal with.'

'Pssht. I'm supposed to give Iwaizumi the chance to tell me to get fucked? To completely remove me from his life? You must be joking. I'd rather pretend that nothing happened, after waiting a few weeks. He's a big boy, he'll handle himself without me for a few weeks... it's not like I meant what I did anyway, I was just horny thinking about yo-'

My fist collided loudly with the door, startling both of them. 'You're a fucking asshole, Tooru.'

I pretend not to hear him stammer after me as I left the gym, leaving behind my school clothes and sentiment. Makki bought my clothes to my place a few hours later, acting as though he hadn't enjoyed every moment of the drama in the gym. Oikawa stood out the front of my window in the pouring rain, shouting half-hearted apologies for over two hours, getting himself drenched. But I didn't let him in.

I didn't let anybody in after that.

* * *

 

I pressed the call button - and then I hung up. Two, three, four times was enough before I decided to throw my phone onto the floor and scream into a pillow for several minutes or so.

Eventually, I remember breathing is essential for life, and I tear the pillow reluctantly away from my face. I'm a perfectly functional post-college graduate with all aspects of my life together. Last night could have happened so differently, but it didn't, and now I have to deal with it. We had things that needed to be talked about, both of us, but we didn't. We didn't talk about them now for probably the same reasons we didn't talk about them back then.

Have we even grown at all? In three, almost four years, have we changed in the slightest? Or are we still just confused children? I know the answer to that. Of course we're still confused children. We haven't grown because we haven't given ourselves the chance to grow.

That's why I call him again. That's why I don't hang up when he answers, no matter how badly I want to hang up and never hear his voice or see his face ever again.

"Hi," He answers, breathlessly.

I wonder how long he'd been waiting, phone in hand, for me to ring him again.

I swallow. "Hey."

Silence. All around us in our separate headspaces is tension and apprehension. I bite my lip, bite a metaphorical bullet, and find the words I've wanted to say for so long.

"Are you free today for lunch?" I ask, voice betraying the confidence I feign.

Oikawa draws in a sharp breath. "Y-yeah... I'm free. Um. I'll shout you a coffee. There's a nice cafe down here... well, I think it's nice. Kuroo works there."

Ah. Kuroo. "Your roommate." Your test dummy.

"Mm. My roommate."

"He was Nekoma's captain, right?" I ask, knowing full well that he was Nekoma's captain. Why do I ask these stupid questions when I'm nervous? I'd never act like this to his face.

Oikawa hums. "Yeah, he was... you heard about-"

"Yeah. I heard."

"Right."

"Yeah."

I've never had a conversation like this before. It feels... forced, like we're trying too hard to sync with one another like we used to. When did we ever have to try? And what is the point of trying? We've been out of sync for years. There's no point trying to salvage a burning ship - you may as well just let it burn and build another.

Yeah. We could build another. Maybe it'll be different, but if we're both wanting the same thing, then perhaps it will be better. But could we ever go back to the way we were before? No. _Of course not._

I've built my walls far too high, and he's lost a part of himself that he may have never even had in the first place. But that doesn't mean I can't remove the bricks, one by one, until there's a window. That's doesn't mean that Oikawa can't find a passion again, or a will to live, or a dream.

"Iwaizumi?"

I blink out of my thoughts, making awkward eye-contact with my neighbour in the apartment building across from my own. I wave a nervous apology. "Yeah?"

Oikawa sighs. "I'm glad you called." His voice is breaking. "I didn't- I didn't think you'd ever want to speak to me after what happened... I'm sorry for being so rude. I think I was just... scared. I was scared."

I want to stop him; to cut in and tell him that he doesn't need to apologise, and that he can save his words for later, but I'm not going to do that. Whether it's on the phone or in person, we both have things to say to one another, things that are difficult to even fathom, so I let him speak. I'd always told him to shut up because all he did was talk, but really, all he needed was for someone to let him speak.

I wish I'd realised this sooner.

"I've never told anyone what I told you. Nobody outside of the people who were there. I've kept to myself all these years, not even telling Kuroo all the times that I feel sad or miserable or useless and I- I'm sorry I just blew up in your face like that." Oikawa sighs again, and I can almost visualise him holding onto his knees, curled up on the couch with tears swimming at the corners of his eyes. "I didn't speak to you for so long. I had no right to pretend as if nothing had happened between us."

I wonder how things would have been different.

"Back then, back in high school when I told you it was best we stopped seeing each other... I didn't mean it. I know that sounds cliche and stupid and unbelievable, but it's true. I was scared then, and I'm scared now, nothing has changed that. But nothing could change the fact that I regretted doing what I did from the moment it even formulated in my mind, Iwaizumi. I lo- I, yeah. I'll see you at lunch... and I'll send you the address."

I smile. "Okay, I'll be there."

"And, Iwaizumi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks... thank you for listening to me."

"You're welcome." I wish I'd done it sooner. "I'll see you around one."

I wonder how things would have been different, had we talked before we made our decisions. Had I simply told the truth, told him that I wanted to hear what he had to say, would we be lying in each others arms right now, watching some crappy TV show? Would we be training for an upcoming national game?

Would we be any different from what we are now?

I gather my thoughts and contemplate showering, while staring blankly at the wall in front of me. I do need to shower, but what's one more day? It's not like this is a special occasion. It's just meeting Oikawa. But... differently to last time.

Yeah, I'll shower.

And I do. I make sure that I smell clean, that the warm clothes I put on are freshly washed and pressed, that I've thought enough in the shower to clear my mind from any brash comments I could make. I even make sure to douse myself in a generous amount of cologne, but not enough that he'll think I've made more of an effort than normal. After all, he'd seen me not that long ago in my sweatpants and pyjama top, it's not like I'm fooling him. Or myself, for that matter.

I've told myself I was going to change for so long, but this could be the time to actually start. Of course, thinking about change is a start, but actually doing something is making progress.

I make it to the train station at nearly ten past one, just in time for the train. It's two and a half hours to Tokyo from Miyagi, so I sit back on a single seat with my headphones in, closing my eyes and attempting to calm my nerves. It's the least I can do for him. I have to remember that we've both changed. In our three years apart, we've done and seen so many different things - I can't just pretend that change hasn't already happened.

It's far past lunchtime when I arrive in the Miyagi Prefecture, around three forty in the afternoon.

 **From: Tooru  
** 3:27pm  
You're coming soon, right? I've already ordered for you, but I told them to put it on hold until I got the OK from you ⁀‿⁀

He still texts like an underdeveloped middle school kid.

 **To: Tooru  
** 3:42pm  
Just got here. Where's the cafe?

 **From: Tooru  
** 3:42pm  
ヽ( ˃ ヮ˂)ノ

 **From: Tooru  
** 3:43pm  
It's the cat cafe near the Indian place, 3 Chome-14-1  
See you soon!

I'm surprised he didn't just leave it at "near the Indian place." I text back a 'thank you' in return and make my way to the edge of the platform, taking in the almost familiar atmosphere that beings jolts of uneasiness to my stomach.

It was the last time we were here together that many things changed for us. When we were last here together, we weren't together, but instead it was Kuroo and Oikawa. But even still, they weren't even really together. It was almost... cruel, what they went though. Kuroo was hurting, Oikawa was hurting, no they ended up hurting themselves and everyone around them in the process.

And then when we left, things changed even further, because Oikawa's eyes lingered on me longer, his touches fleeting but appearing more often.

It's strange how life can hurt so much, but in the end, somehow be worth it. I hope.

- **x** -

The cafe is relatively small, but no matter how many people are there, I can spot Oikawa immediately. Even with his tired eyes, and ill-fitting clothes, I can see the only man I've ever fallen in love with.

I've seen many of breathtaking woman in my life, but I gang say I've ever felt this kind of orbit towards them. God... not even two seconds in the same room and I'm already flooded with memories of countless hours spent watching space documentaries with him in my bedroom, or on his couch.

"Oikawa."

He looks up at me, mourn slightly agape as he takes in my appearance. "Iwaizumi." Why does he look so small? He smiles up at me. "You're here."

I nod and sit down across from here, surprised to see there's already a hot coffee sitting ready for me. "How long have you been here for?" I ask. How are these meetings supposed to go? We're both siting on years worth of lies and things left unsaid. We can't just go right into that... can we?

Or is that what makes those soap operas so utterly frustrating?

"Not long," He says, quietly. "But I made sure to keep an eye on the time the train would take."

"That was smart."

"Mm... nice weather in Miyagi?"

I snort. "It's okay... actually, it rained. It rained when I left the house, and until I boarded the train."

Oikawa smiles. "It's always when it rains."

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing..." Oikawa bites his lip, hesitant to let out his breathe. "I'd like to speak honestly with you for a moment, Iwaizumi... Can I do that? I know we haven't seen each other in ages, but... if I don't say it now, I'll never say it, and I'll just keep spinning in this stupid circle for the best of my life."

People around us live their own lives, but I'm briefly hit with the reality that he's about to speak honestly about us and we are surrounded by people who might-... I bring my attention to him, and only him. His hair, oily and littered with split ends; his deep brown eyes, red in the corners, shiny beneath the cafe lighting; his face, for the most part pale, but littered with pink and red blotches from the weather; his imperfections showing more so now than ever, but making him all the more raw and real and human.

"Please," I say, breathlessly. "I want to hear the words of your heart."

I hope that was raw enough for him. I can't believe I'd quote a line from some stupid romance novel here, of all places.

Oikawa nods, face flushing slightly. "I usually keep my thoughts in my head, but... I think you need to hear them. I think you need to know that I've had five girlfriends since my last year of junior high, and four out of the five have ended because I wouldn't have sex with them if we'd been together for less than a year. Apparently, that made me 'weak,' and in some cases, 'gay.'" Oikawa swallows thickly. "I also think you need to know that I've had two boyfriends. First was Kuroo, and you know the story behind him. Second was Suga from Karasuno, a year after Daichi... you know. But we both decided it wasn't what we wanted."

"I think you need to know that I've come to terms with the fact that I like people, regardless of their gender. You also need to know that for over a decade I've liked you in varying levels of companionship. I've liked you, I've hated you, and I've loved you. Sometimes all at once... I think you need to know that I ran Takeru over with my mother's car the year we finished high school. It was soon after we'd lost to Karasuno for the final time. That's why I didn't answer your calls, or your texts. That's why I didn't both turning up to trainings anymore, too. I hadn't given up on my dream, I'd simply given up on... life."

Oikawa's voice breaks a little, as is all the memories he talks about come flooding back into his mind. I don't speak, though. I sit in silence and wait for him. He's always needed someone to wait for him.

"You need to know some more things, too; things that I have barely even talked to myself about, let alone someone else." He takes another breath, this time one a little steadier. I can't help the way my stomach flips at each and every word. "A few months before we graduated, just before I broke up with you, I attempted to take my own life. I didn't succeed, but my parents didn't want me around after that, not after everything I'd done. I moved here to Tokyo, and a few weeks after I'd settled, attempted to take my own life again. If it weren't for Kuroo rocking up on my doorstep, I think I would have succeeded."

My fingertips go numb; my stomach feels like, and my head feels empty.

He tried... to leave this world. He wasn't - isn't - happy, and here I've been complaining about my life like I know what true unhappiness is.

"I consider Kuroo a close friend, maybe even family. We're not the same as we used to be, but living with one another has helped us both in some ways. I think you need to know that, while I love Kuroo with all of my heart, the way I live him will never, ever be the same way I love you." Oikawa sighs, now lifting his tired eyes to look at me. "Which brings me to the last thing I think you need to know... Hajime. Even when I hated myself, and I hated the world, I never stopped loving you. And I don't think I ever will."

I can't help the way my voice cracks as I let out a helpless: "Oikawa... I'm so sorry." Forgetting the customers, forgetting out social standings, I rush around the other side of the table with no regard for social grace and wrap my arms around him. He feels so small, so frail; but I remember every part of his body. I run my hands down the familiar, but perhaps more defined, contours of his back. I feel his spine, and the remains of a deep scar on his left shoulder blade from an accident when we were kids.

He almost sobs, tentatively wrapping his own arms around my back with a shaky sigh. "Don't be sorry," He whispers. "I should be sorry for everything I did. Or didn't do."

I shake my head into his shoulder. "No, no. You have nothing to apologise for. Except not talking to me. I'm sorry I didn't show how much I cared as often as I could have. I'm brash, and rough, and careless, but I fucking love you with all of my heart, and I didn't ever want to let you go."

"Then don't."

"What?"

Oikawa pulls back from me, his arms still wrapped around my neck with our faces close to one another. "You said you didn't ever want to let me go." Our surroundings seem to blur, seem to become irrelevant. Oikawa moves to press his lips softly against my own. "Don't ever let me go."

If that's what he wants - what we want - then I won't. I'll hold him tight and I won't ever let him go.

Not again.

When we pull away, and I regain my composure enough to move back to my own seat and keep my gaze away from the other patrons, Oikawa let's out a slight chuckle.

"I was saying earlier... this stuff always happens when it rains. We hug, or kiss, or hunt bugs; every meaningful experience we've ever had, it's happened when it rains."

And true to his word, the sky opens up outside the small coffee shop, and rain begins to fall almost methodically against the window and the pavement. Umbrellas seem to appear out of nowhere, and I can't help but laugh. And he laughs too.

We're two idiots who never fell out of love, laughing at the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note: they kissed, but they still have a lot to work through. Chances are the rest of their story will be revealed in part throughout the rest of the series, but just thought I'd let you know that their story isn't over, this is just the beginning of the next chapter. A kiss doesn't heal the hurt of the past. :*

**Author's Note:**

> Probably 1 chapter of about 5-6, but who knows, ATIA was supposed to be like that too LMAO.


End file.
